


Leave of Paradise

by sigmalied



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigmalied/pseuds/sigmalied
Summary: Aria assembles a consortium when a lush world within asari space is greenlit for colonization, hoping to diversify her income. While seeking permits for land she encounters complications and other interests, including those of the asari councilor. Even at the conclusion of business, Aria can't stop thinking about her. The obsession becomes mutual and the pair are left to wonder whether it's just another Nevos mirage - a temporary escapist fantasy in paradise - or something more profound.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is unrelated to my works within the GBTQ timeline. Chronologically, it takes the place of Confidentiality and shares a few basic setting details with it, but it's best to come into this without any conceptions based on what I've written in the past.
> 
> My purpose for this one is to write a fic that feels "movie-esque".

There was an indulgent sense of tradition in meeting on a lush world to apportion another.

The matriarchy had spent recent years echoing the potential of Ryasus, their precious emerald glistening under mists of interminable waterfalls and giant dew-heavy aroids. In the right hands, they said, Ryasus would become a second Nevos within half a century. Its exotic vistas would attract renowned filmmakers, mountain peaks penetrating the canopies would stroke egos of business executives opening new branches at lofty heights, and tourists wading into the shallow crystalline oceans would rather lose themselves in the waves than turn back to shore. 

Aria judged the generous optimism as being a bit out of proportion. She only agreed with their rhetoric insofar as expansion onto that beautiful, yet undefiled planet was discussed as a symptom of corporate success, and therefore encouraged. Beyond this, all the commotion had brought too many interested parties flocking in to petition the asari government for permits. It seemed as though every household name company in asari space was vying for the largest chunk of untamed tropical splendor they could get their hands on.

The elevator Aria and her two bodyguards stepped into was a cuboidal space, strictly glass on every side save for the floor and the wall attached to the lifting mechanism that sent it crawling up the spine of the tower hugging the cliffside. It was commodious enough to transport a dozen individuals comfortably, and was furnished with a square arrangement of low sofas and palmed plants in each corner. Light instrumental music played in the room, its airy, distant ambience complimenting the evolving landscape the glass walls framed.

Aria led her guards to the furthermost wall. While they faced the room, Aria stood gazing out at the river-cloven forests of Nevos, to where its green was engulfed by hazy gold at the horizon. The left wing of the building curved along the cliff face. Bright red birds darted past countless glinting windows on stratified white. 

She could also see, faintly reflected in the glass, the overwhelmingly asari population periodically entering and exiting during their ascent, tourists and businesspeople alike. Upon noticing the surly batarian and asari accompanying Aria’s mysterious figure, they would fixate on the identity of their charge. Aria’s civilian apparel kept them guessing. None could divorce her from the powerful iconography she had established elsewhere, and none dared approach her for a better look. 

After several minutes, a few matriarchs superimposed themselves on the idyllic scenery. They were looking at Aria, saying nothing aloud for fear of being overheard, but she could tell they recognized her. Aria fitted her hands on her hips, content to ignore them. 

She was not enchanted by their dreams of paradise. She dreamed not of velvety flowers and beaches, but of rich, dark soil. She dreamed of fragrant batarian tobacco fields stretching on and on for endless kilometers under a yellow sun, and broad buttery leaves to be dried and rolled into a new brand of luxury cigars with whom she would partner. 

* * *

Productive use was made of the two spare hours before their appointment. Aria met her consortium at a restaurant on one of the tower’s highest levels, where they assembled in a booth out on the balcony for breakfast. Stories below, a waterfall poured vigorously from the cliffside and washed over one of the vertical elevator lanes before feeding a channel tamed by infrastructure. At their great altitude, the cool moisture in the air might have condensed into clouds about their heads at any moment.

Among those present was Senaya, the matron owner of a hydroponics startup; a somewhat stocky individual with enthusiasm and a highly professional fashion proclivities. At the moment, Aria was favorably disposed toward her. She had good business sense and took pride in her product. It had been Senaya’s own designs and innovations that uplifted her company from obscurity and made it a quick favorite of agricultural contractors from a certain niche of floral nurseries. Recently, she had secured her first client from the Traverse.

Beside her was the middle-aged president of an agricultural producer, Enoln. The fading of his once vibrantly russet skin tone was accentuated by the glowing youth of his asari spouse, Nisani, a maiden not even two hundred years of age. 

Aria understood their bonding was not founded in love, but in pursuit of financial success. In bonding with an asari, the salarian had been adopted into her bloodline and therefore permitted certain privileges granted to citizens of the Republics, including the right to purchase land on their worlds, whereas most aliens interested in asari land were consigned to renting. All Nisani had to do was to wait for her ephemeral husband to die to inherit the bulk of his company and fortunes, and she could spend the rest of her pretty maidenhood days shopping, traveling, and owning too many houses. 

Aria knew her riches would not survive a hundred years. Nisani would, quite undoubtedly, squander her opportunity with her myopic addiction to spending. Aria could see all the hallmark signs manifesting in her glamorous furs and rings, and the way she ordered the restaurant’s best sparkling wine while they were only gathered for a brief conversation. It was excess without replenishment, the liberal drawing from a well of limited water. It was smart of Enoln to have included a clause in his will that denied Nisani a bequest if his death were ruled accidental or involved foul play. When he once revealed this in passing to Aria, she laughed not only because it was morbidly delightful, but also because Nisani’s intemperance so obviously held the potential to mutate into impatience. The girl knew no subtlety.

But most favorable of all present company was Parem Igrahal, a batarian corsair recently turned Omegan entrepreneur. The distinction was not so meaningful to Aria, who considered herself employed to both professions to the point of symbiosis, but Parem claimed to enjoy her departure from nomadism. 

Above all differences, Parem was a woman of such prodigal class, cunning, and calculated aggression that she felt like estranged kin to Aria. For this disposition, as well as her deep connections to Khar’shan enterprises both legitimate and illicit, Aria had forged a rare treaty with her. It had been a very good investment. Currently, Parem served as the avenue through which Aria had dealt with the fifth party and crux of their consortium, who was only present in the good spirit of a polished wooden case of premium cigars rolled with the genetic strain of tobacco they sought a new home for. 

When Parem slid the cover back to reveal half a dozen cigars arranged in a perfect row, she stated, “A gift from my cousin. He regrets his necessary absence, but he is thoroughly confident in us knowing what he wants for his company’s expansion. He sends his best wishes and good luck to the future partners of the Ryasus branch of Ta'balor.”

Each received a cigar from the box. Before cutting and lighting them, they raised their glasses to toast. 

“So,” Aria began. She reached into the interior pocket of her light jacket and retrieved a lighter. “Let’s review.” As she placed the cigar between her lips and flicked a small flame to life, those at the table opened their datapad portfolios.

“Partner shares, post-merge,” said Aria. She opened a thin leather-bound portfolio to consult her own documents. Across from her, Senaya lifted a hand to muffle a cough after clumsily sampling her cigar, and sipped from her drink. To Aria’s experienced palate, she found the taste of hers as smooth and full of subdued spice as she remembered.

“Five percent for us,” reported Enoln. “Well, two and a half from both of us. We’ll constitute a single vote during partner meetings since our agreed upon requirement is three percent and we’d only exceed that together.”

“You’re confident you’ll share the same opinion every time?” Aria lifted a skeptical gaze. 

Enoln had yet to light his cigar. He kept it along with his dining utensils beside his plate. “We’ll work it out, I’m sure. There _will_ be one vote submitted from us each time, even if one of us has to concede to the other.”

His bondmate was pleased by the answer. “I look forward to working with you,” she said, turning a lingering stare upon Aria in particular.

Aria returned it with cold intensity until Nisani finally looked away. She tapped her fingers against the table’s surface, wondering when and where Enoln had his spine surgically removed and along with it, his dignity. While he reserved the right to partition some of his partnership to his spouse, he was still president of his humble company, meanwhile Nisani had contributed no executive work to it. Yet here she sat in Aria’s fold, sampling their cigars, wine, and common ambition; luxuries that were far beyond her earning. Aria suspected one too many plans being kept from her. 

She strategically decided to set aside her disdain and not press them on the issue. Right now she only needed their compliance. After the merge she could sort out all the complications without worrying about any single component deciding to dissent and ruin their chances of acquiring land. 

“Seven percent,” declared Senaya. Her voice ran weak, still clinging to the end of a cough. “And you won’t touch us? We’ll keep most of our autonomy?”

Aria nodded. “You’ll have it. They’ll be parent to you but your company stays as is. Granted, you’ll be answering to performance expectations, but you’ll also have more resources available to you. If any conflicts arise we’ll address them as they come. Agreed?”

“That sounds good.”

With Senaya fully on board, Aria turned to Parem.

“Five percent,” said Parem. “Honestly I may sell down to two-point-nine within a few years. I’ve a lot of new ventures already and a position on the board may stretch me too thinly. I want more mobility here.”

“Just hire some recorder to brief you at the meetings.” Aria dismissively waved a hand. Her brow knit as a breeze sent the table’s smoke wafting across her eyes. “Hell, get a VI drone. The more people familiar with Khar’shan we have on this branch, the better off we’ll be when we have to negotiate what we want from them. And you’re his family. That’s a lot of pull we can't afford to throw away.” 

Parem canted her head at her. “You know as well as I do that you can’t be in bed with everyone at once. It causes problems, jealousy…” She made a rolling gesture with the hand holding her cigar. “The interests of businesses are dynamic. Sometimes they conflict with one another depending on who they’ve acquired. You know what I had on my hands once? You think a pharmaceutical and a food producer have nothing in common until they’re fronting rival drug rings. It was cataclysmic.”

“You want to know how turn a profit off a quarrel like that?”

“I already know. You abscond with your gains before they take very personal offense at the inevitability of you stabbing one in the back on behalf of the other. You need to have your favorites. Being a serial ally reduces the gravity of your friendship because you give it out too easily. You trivialize yourself. Do you see what I mean?”

Aria pivoted in her chair to better face her and folded one leg over the other. “If you can make them play nice with each other, you’ve made two friends into one.”

“Yes, and tell me all about how easy it is to broker an alliance between two gangs who’ve been at war for half a century.”

“You offer something pleasant," said Aria. "Something they both want and can have if they get along. Then, alternatively, you offer to kill them.”

Everyone expressed visible concern at the idea of being overheard by other tables at brunch. Aria allowed her cigar to freely smolder between her fingers as she continued, “If you take the money and run neither will respect you. They’ll see you as just another flaky corporate opportunist, same as the one to replace you after you cut ties. ‘Work for me or else’ leaves a much stronger impression.”

“Assuming you have the resources to back the threat,” Parem pointed out. 

“That’s why you’ve made all your friends. They’ll support you without even flinching, because you’ve already helped them. Haven’t you?” After a short drag, Aria’s gaze flitted down to where she lowered her cigar and rolled its head of ashes against the side of her plate. “My friendships don’t trivialize me. They make me essential.”

Parem conceded the argument. While it had not been Aria’s intention to embarrass her in front of their future partners, Parem had challenged her, believing her headstrong and frankly erratic approach to business superior to Aria’s centuries spent building investments through indebted allies and displays of immovable might. Aria did not think less of her. Parem Igrahal was young and susceptible to misconception, but she would not be forever. Aria saw nascent worth in their alliance and was willing to wait until Parem became nearly as shrewd and foresighted as herself. 

But the destiny of their friendship was grim. There would soon arrive a day when Parem expired from age, violence, or by Aria’s own hand, and the ominous trajectory of their relationship would then see Aria’s syndicate devouring hers either by posthumous will or right of force. An empire to-be, growing ever more corpulent from the flesh of outlasted allies. 

For the moment, however, Aria simply enjoyed smoking with her after the partners had adjourned. The pair were content to be quiet. Nearby, their bodyguards dealt hands of cards at their table in one corner of the balcony, gambling discreetly.

Parem broke the silence once their cigars had receded to half their original lengths. “So, Aria. Be honest with me. Do you really think our people are going to be able to woo the matriarch panel?”

Aria exhaled irately. “They’d damn well better.”

“The girl Senaya doesn’t have the stomach for tobacco. She takes no interest in it. And Enoln is afraid of his wife. Afraid of her!”

“I know.”

“Nisani’s going to have his partnership within several years. Is that really who we want to work with? Maybe we should do something.”

“We can fire her and keep her from making administrative decisions,” said Aria, “but we can’t take away her partnership. We’d have to buy her out of it, and that’s only if she’s willing to sell.”

“Don’t we have a more… traditional way of solving this problem?”

Aria shook her head. “It’s not that easy here. The Republics are liable to investigate something like that. And how much effort are we willing to invest to keep it looking clean?”

“Getting rid of her may be worth any cost. You’ll see, once she’s rotting us from the inside.” The wooden cigar box clicked shut as Parem closed its lid and removed it from the table. “I can’t stay for the petition, Aria. Did I tell you?”

Aria dipped her chin to nod once. She hadn’t wanted to stay long either. With a baby at home on a station under the control of her eccentric lieutenants, Aria found minimal pleasure in remaining to herd the partners over the course of the week. The gorgeous business tower and conjoined resort mitigated some of those stressors, but it was not nearly enough to placate her.

“I know you’ll keep everything on track,” said Parem. “My cousin is only so confident in our consortium because you are the one heading it.”

She said nothing. An upward gust brought a fine mist from the waterfall to the balcony, so delicately dappling her skin that Aria repressed a shiver erupting from the fine muscles in her hands.

“I’ve been receiving requests from suitors.”

A brief raise of her brow marked Aria’s interest. “Anyone you like?”

“None. I hate looking at their faces. They only remind me of people like that salarian president who would surrender his life work to a woman he doesn’t even sleep with. I keep wondering, what if I mistakenly choose an insect like him? It will be a colossal waste of my time. I can have sex with as many strong and beautiful men as I want without having to marry them. The only thing they have ever offered me that I cannot obtain myself is children, and _still_ , I do not need to be married for that.”

“Well, I think you’ve got the right idea about things. You seem sure of what you want.”

Parem slowly nodded. Then a curiosity struck her, but it was charged with dissatisfaction when she asked, “I know you generally prefer the company of women, Aria, but have you ever slept with a batarian man?”

“Are we that familiar now?”

“Humor me, please.”

Aria turned away to face the other tables arranged across the balcony, her expression neutral and unchanging as she considered her answer. There was a wind chime mounted above the door leading back into the golden glow of the restaurant, softly ringing. “I might have.”

“They’re selfish. Greedy. They touch you like they touch a marinated roast.” 

Aria’s shoulders shook with soundless amusement. With a smile she replied, “Then I guess I’m lucky,” and lifted her cigar to her lips again.

“I suppose I should be more… amenable,” Parem admitted as her outlook improved, seeming to find Aria’s reaction contagious. “And conscious of possible benefits. There is something to be said about companionship. To be close to someone you see as an equal, someone to mutually respect and trust. Acquiring that just might be worth all the trouble of finding a good husband. I am not sentimental, but I can see the value in it.” She sipped from her glass of wine. 

“Then you’re looking for a confidant.”

“Perhaps. I think I am not quite immune to the existential desire to be… understood. I think all creatures desire this on some level. To feel connected, your thoughts and secrets given a place to live outside yourself. What about you? Do you desire such a thing?”

“Me?” Aria gave a small shrug while replying with an absurdity, “I am an open book.”

Parem laughed. “Aria, you are the most personally isolated individual I have ever met. I don’t know how you do it. How there are so many people who know _of_ you, who have admired or hated you, but know nothing _about_ you. Do you really require that little maintenance for your soul?”

Aria did not answer immediately. She reclined in her seat, folded her hands in her lap, and regarded Parem with a posture of calm superiority. “Some people,” she slowly began, “don’t crave the approval of others.”

“Is that how you see it? Approval?”

“What else would it be?”

Parem pondered, looking out at the green forests sprawling endlessly below. “A place for your conscience to rest,” she decided.

* * *

Despite the elevated interest in Ryasus, the amphitheater-style seating of the large auction house embedded in the cliffside was only filled to approximately half capacity. Upon dissenting from the assigned seating map, Aria and her two bodyguards settled into a few chairs near the center, keeping equidistant from the black natural stone wall to their far left and the enormous glass windows to their right. Below was the stage, its preparation for the panel and petitioners nearly complete. 

Aria could see her partners seated in the section near the front. They were talking amongst themselves and exchanging datapads with finalized notes, but Aria knew better than most that they were stressing themselves for nothing. The opening day of the petitions was reserved for declarations of purpose, information dispensing, and other formalities that would inevitably waste Aria’s time. Yet she would not be remiss in her duty to ensure the partners did not embarrass themselves, and braced herself for several hours of torment. 

Fortunately, the seats were decently upholstered and each was outfitted with a desk-arm containing a tablet in its beveled surface. Aria accessed it after ten minutes of waiting in boredom and idly began sketching with her index finger a crude image of the panel assembling on the stage. Her attention to detail delineated the contours of a tasteless headdress, a pair of heels whose height rivaled those of her dancers, and more kindly, a little asari child in a dress holding her mother’s hand before she was transferred to the custody of her turian father. They soon left the building together.

“It’s like an elcor opera house,” Aria mused aloud to the guard seated behind her one row, at her shoulder. “But twice as dismal.”

“A very expensive nap for you, ma’am,” she replied, making Aria smile. 

Shortly before the petition commenced, Aria noticed in the periphery of her vision an unsolicited visitor. Although they approached, her guards took no cautionary actions save for their continued vigilance. In the absence of a threat, Aria opted to ignore them, even as they came to stand not more than a meter away. 

“I’m afraid you’re occupying my seat.”

The crisp elocution of a northern Thessian accent reached Aria with the auditory consistency of morning dew. But it was this very pleasantness, coupled by a conspicuous absence of annoyance, that made Aria suspect her of feigning civility. She denied the stranger even the smallest of glances, and instead dismissed her with a flat, “Move along.”

“I need to ask you to relocate.”

The persistence riled Aria. “And who the hell is asking?”

“Would it impress upon your opinion at all to know the asari councilor is asking?”

At last Aria turned to face her harasser in contempt. When she did, she found a face embellished intricately by stark white tattoos and austere cheekbones only made amiable by the serene set of her eyes. The face was immediately familiar, verifying the claimed identity.

Aria settled on a passing insult before turning her attention back to the stage. “I think Idras would turn over in her grave if she knew about the state of her office.”

“Idras would have never granted someone like you a visa,” said Councilor Tevos. Her arm was occupied by a portfolio, a few loose folders, and a datapad. “I see you’ve made use of the referendum I introduced.”

A scoff left Aria’s lips. “I can’t own land with it.”

“A necessary compromise.” Accepting that Aria was as immovable as a ton of stone, she asked, “May I?”

“Sure. Why not?” Aria made no effort to dull the sharp edge of her words. "Everyone knows my boundless love for politicians."

The councilor sat down, leaving a single seat between them. “Asari space is the collective inheritance of our people,” she said. She traced Aria’s gaze to the panel taking their chairs at a long table facing the audience. “All of asari descent should have easier access to our homeworlds regardless of citizenship. At the collateral expense of inviting people like yourself - I believe only due to your high profile mitigating your risk factor - I think we’ve done a great thing. But you raise an interesting point. Coincidentally, your landowning ability has been the topic of multiple conversations this morning.”

Bafflement and offense was Aria’s reflex. She could not understand why Councilor Tevos thought continuing to talk would bring her any pleasure.

“The matriarchs are trying to figure out which jockeys you’ve bet on, so to speak."

“And I’m supposed to thank you and tell you what I’m doing here?” 

Aria noticed her bodyguards tensely shifting in their seats. They knew enough to never confront a councilor, even one who was irritating their boss. It didn’t help that they remained ignorant of the location of Tevos’s personal security, who were more often than not,  _much_ closer than one surmised.

“I don’t expect you to thank me,” said Tevos. “I’m only sharing what I’ve heard.”

“Trying to make friends?”

“Avoiding making enemies, rather. I didn’t have to say anything about the matriarchs discussing your intentions. I could have kept the information to myself. I only thought it proper that someone take initiative to be honest with you.”

Aria, against her instincts, reunited her gaze with the councilor’s. “Then you’re trying to mediate.”

“How else am I to dissuade them from ejecting you from Nevos?”

Her interest in the conversation, which had previously straddled nonexistence, amplified tenfold. “On what grounds? I’m not representing a company, I’m spectating. This is an open forum.”

“Everyone realizes that is only half true.” Tevos calmly presented a hand to her. “You’re not one of our citizens, no. But you are within your rights to remain here, regardless of your business conspiracies. Which, I assume, would exploit legal loopholes rather than blatantly oppose the law. I found the onus upon myself to ensure you are treated justly while we ascertain the details of your involvement. It would reflect poorly upon my government if an incident occurred.”

Aria looked at the extended hand, but hesitated to take it. The councilor's incentive to maintain favorable public opinions toward her administration was sound, but Aria had yet to retire her doubts. “So I’m not in your seat. You were being deceptive.”

“Oh, you are. I meant to approach you at the end of today’s meeting, but I suppose you could say your disregard for our rules resulted in something serendipitous.”

“Serendipitous for whom?” Even as she challenged her, Aria accepted the gesture of peace. 

“For both of us,” answered Tevos, “if you’re proactive about it.”

Aria’s grip was firm about the councilor’s slender hand, asserting herself with as much vigor as she would to a krogan warlord. She knew she had discomforted her, and  _meant_ to. But the way Tevos’s hand yielded in her grasp without conceding any self-possession gave Aria pause. She could feel her tendons and bones shifting to accomodate her, how they collapsed and made no effort to restore their positioning. By the time she released her hand, the pressure Aria imposed had considerably relented. She had suddenly sensed danger, as though the councilor were a venomous creature to which she may certainly succumb if punctured.

It was the irrational spiking of an instinct. A response to something anomalous and unanticipated. The way she endured Aria and did not falter, as if to warn her that she could not be intimidated, provided insight into a temperament Aria rarely dealt with.

Still, she pressed her. "So you want to know what I'm doing here."

“Of course I do. But I won’t have you ejected from the petition hall if I cannot figure it out.”

The petitions opened with a speech commemorating the viability of Ryasus and the successful bureaucracy that led to its opening for colonization. A presentation followed. The lights of the amphitheater dimmed to show dozens of hologram images depicting the planet’s rainforests and brilliant cobalt seas, before transitioning to rendered concepts of how cities and parks might look situated amidst the scenic views. Aria, finding their idealization too far removed from reality for her tastes, turned her focus upon the councilor again.

“Why appeal to me?” she asked her, leaning in to project the lowered volume of her voice over the room's speakers. “Are you feuding with the matriarchy?”

“How direct of you,” Tevos replied. “No.”

After an uncomfortable pause, Aria said, “They originally sat me over there, near that matriarch.” She gestured with her head. “She looks like a cadaver. She even smells like vinegar.”

Tevos appeared as if she wanted to smile, but did not, and forced solemnity into her response. “She has a disease.”

Aria exhaled through her nose in dissatisfaction. 

“It’s congenital, but not terminal. I say this so your guilt will not perturb you too much.”

When she wryly faced Tevos again, Aria found that her smile had breached her will to efface it.

They watched the presentation in silence. Aria labored to read her, but in a language she hardly knew; some ancient dialect lost to millennia of disuse. The councilor carried herself with unerring grace and composure of enigmatic origin that Aria could only ascribe to knowledge of something so consequential that the words of her acquaintances were diminished to dithering. Haughtiness, Aria might have concluded, had Tevos not observed civility despite their radically different backgrounds, and more importantly, transparency. Or what _appeared_ to be transparency, as Aria was not so easily convinced. The more Tevos shared with her, after all, the more Aria would be inclined to believe she had received the whole truth - a deadly mistake in certain cases, and the result of complacency.

Beyond ulterior motives and surface behaviors, Aria judged the councilor as being born to wealth. Pristine mannerisms were indoctrinated in her, evidenced from the way she sat in her chair to the fine subtleties of her gestures. How she had emerged victorious from the recent councilor election was no mystery. Aria believed her dignified presentation alone could secure a majority, and if she was dually correct about her pedigree, Tevos needn’t have wasted time or money on a robust campaign at all. She embodied precisely what the asari as a people wanted in their Council representation. Qualifications be damned, although Aria acknowledged that Tevos was likely in copious possession of them.

One of the only favorable attributes the councilor possessed but could not be conveyed to her partisan support, however, was the perfumed scent of mulled berries plucked from the gelid north, fresh and clean and exquisite in its daintiness. It reached Aria at their proximity and set her jaw, made her leer at the holograms swirling about the stage while the light cast by images of paradise brought a sheen to the councilor’s skin and eyes, for she could not recall the last time she desired to know the motives of a rival not for her own measurable profit, but for fascination. Chasing diversions would only produce more work for her. But it was work she severely wanted to undertake.

A calculated risk was in order, to decipher her. And to vex her.

"I'll tell you what I'm here for."

Tevos looked to her at once while ecological data was being presented. Various figures and tables were forgotten in her anticipation.

"I'm here to grow batarian tobacco. Will that scandal the matriarchy?"

"If that's true, then no. It's not a problem as long as it's a legal strain."

"It is." 

"Then perhaps such an explanation would put their fears to rest," said Tevos. "They may not believe you, however. I'm not sure I believe you myself. There exists a possibility of that being true, but you may have elected to not disclose information about... additional strategies accompanying your legitimate enterprise." She sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't say anything to me."

"You told me you were curious to know."

"Yes, but by my own discovery. Anything you say obscures or confounds the truth, even if you're meaning to be honest. I'd best forget you said anything at all." 

Aria tried not to reveal how pleased she was about using the councilor's own intelligence to undermine her. She wondered if Tevos was aware that she had intentionally sabotaged her reconnaissance, and had not acted randomly or was otherwise ignorant of her comment's effects. Hungry for due credit, she added with nonchalance, "Tomorrow is my birthday."

She watched Tevos's brow furrow as she processed the secret. The councilor was slower to regard her this time, and by the time she had, she did not appear happy. "You're toying with me."

The less mirthful Tevos appeared, the better Aria's mood reciprocally became. "That's what I like about my reputation preceding me. I can say anything I want about myself because I'd never do that."

"I'm starting to regret sitting here," Tevos lamented. "But at least you're somewhat amusing. I didn't think you would be."

Their whispering caught the notice of a few rows above. Someone shushed them, likely unaware of the source of the disturbance. While Aria rolled her eyes, Tevos corrected her posture against the back of her chair. Aria soon afforded the councilor a final furtive glance and decided she had grown to like the way she talked to her, and like the way her knees indented her dark red dress when she crossed her legs.

Further on, algorithm-generated light reflected off the pool water of a fantasized resort, and beautiful people in swimwear strutted by while carrying vibrant cocktails the color of the setting sun. But Aria could not catch the scent of briny seaside air, the cigarette ash in dim lounges, nor traces of loam in the shade of palm leaves, and found herself utterly disinterested.


	2. Chapter 2

Aria drew closer. When she took the empty chair separating herself from the councilor, an asari security guard began to rise from the row directly below them. Tevos lifted a gentle hand to put her at ease, and the asari, though remaining wary and distrustful of Aria, sank back down to her former position.

Their shoulders brushed together. The overlapping of personal space was a byproduct of the privacy Aria sought, but she was not discomforted by her proximity to a politician. The Citadel Council, while far more prominent in the galactic conscience than virtually all other groups save for celebrities, was something Aria only thought of when their mandates sent ripples to the shores of the Terminus Systems. To see that one of their triumvirate was attractive and clever deposed Aria’s preconceptions of a typically humorless, droll bureaucrat like Tevos’s predecessor. It was refreshing.

Aria believed she might actually enjoy herself while assessing the councilor’s usefulness.

Indeed, Aria found the company of handsome women like Tevos to be pleasant regardless of their occupations or backgrounds. So long as they did not work to her detriment and were of reasonably compatible temperament, she couldn’t have cared less about what they did to make their money. Ethical leniency was necessary in her life and relationships, and she gladly extended it to those who had to her. 

But more important matters muted her idle fancies. She clarified to Tevos the purpose of her relocation by saying, “Tell me about some of the outfits who’ve registered for the petition.”

Tevos withheld her reply for a time, obviously thinking about how it might serve her to answer. When she appeared to find an adequate reason, she whispered, “I suppose I will. But I’ll need your confidence. If I find that you’ve spoken to any other party about this, you can imagine how that will impact my report to the matriarchs about you.”

Briefly, their gazes met as Aria glanced away from the stage where the closing act of the presentation still swirled with complex hued light. The councilor’s expression was firm, but not unkind. 

“Fair enough,” Aria agreed. 

When Tevos opened her portfolio to share the itinerary issued to officials, Aria honed her focus to indelibly commit every worthwhile name and datum to memory. 

The majority of interests were unremarkable. Hotels, casinos, and various recreations accounted for more than half of the companies seeking land permits. There were some agricultural interests, but none were attracted to the area her consortium was courting. They wanted the plains and rivers, whereas Aria’s partners did not shy away from a precipitous range of hills and mountains, where the soil was arable with all the trace elements that made batarian tobacco crop flourish. 

She thought herself in a very favorable position until the mining corporation Dantrida Natural Resources had listed in association with their name the very same coordinates Aria’s partners had applied for. Aria stared unflinchingly at the glow of the digital page, scanning the blue text a second time to be sure she was not mistaken. The length of her pause, however meager, did not escape the keen notice of the councilor.

“An affiliate?” Tevos asked. “Or a competing interest?”

Aria looked at her with emerging disdain. Her positive first impression of the councilor took an abrupt turn for the worse; not due to her prying or any characteristic related to that action, but due to her ability to pry _successfully_. 

While Aria scoured the stars for capable minds to join her collection in her pocket, she had always avoided those too much like herself until she was certain she was better. Now that Tevos had learned something about Aria’s role on Nevos which she did not voluntarily disclose, Aria realized she would have to take her quite seriously. In looking to use the councilor to her benefit, she would do well to remember that she was attempting to use her in return.

“It’s all right,” insisted Tevos. She had sensed outrage in Aria’s reticence. “I understand you don’t want me knowing your business. But if you want to be absolved in the eyes of the matriarchy, I do require something to bring to them.”

“Right. So they can whisper everything they’ve learned to the panel and shut me out early?” Aria closed the portfolio with a curt motion of her hand and held it out to Tevos, who received it. “I’m not stupid. I know you don’t want me anywhere near your little virginal colony and you’ll do anything in your power to quietly get rid of me.”

Tevos peered at her with faint surprise, but she seemed to understand where Aria’s grievance came from. To her offense she replied with a hushed, “I see,” and looked down to her lap where the portfolio lied. She opened it to find the enclosed datapad still presenting the last page Aria had viewed. After skimming it, she asked, “Are they in conflict with your own land request? This seems most probable to me. Dantrida is too large and well-established to feel the need to deal with Terminus interests. Too little to be gained for the relative risk.”

She was correct, but Aria would not afford her the satisfaction of hearing it from herself. 

“Well,” Tevos continued, “as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, they aren’t the only group interested in these coordinates. Preliminary surveys documented a large deposit of palladium less than a kilometer beneath the surface. Despite the environmental damages, extracting the ore is tempting to the panel because of the potential tax revenue, along with contributions to healthy stock market reports. Artisanal batarian tobacco would hardly generate the dividends large-scale mining would.”

Some of Aria’s aggravation left her body along with the breath she exhaled. It would do her no good to withdraw from the conversation, despite the threat Tevos posed to the secrecy of her agenda. Although the councilor’s attendance to the petition was partly ceremonial, there was also her responsibility of evaluating the congruity of the panel’s decision with Council regulations. She knew everyone else’s business, and if Aria wanted to tap that knowledge, Tevos was already demonstrating herself to be the best possible entry point.

“Dantrida is a local behemoth,” said Tevos. “They will easily eclipse any smaller outfit by merit of name alone, even the other mining interests. If I were you, I would advise my associates to inspect other plots of land while you still have time.”

Aria looked down to the rows where her partners sat, swiftly evaluating the situation and trying to contrive a way to survive the competition. “We can’t be out of the race this early,” she said. “We need that land. There’s nothing else like it on that world. It’s an integral part of our branding and if we can’t get our hands on it, we’re dead in the water.”

The councilor removed a stylus from a slot in the datapad’s frame and made some annotations. “If it’s any consolation, some of the matriarchy are displeased about the probable outcome. They wanted to keep the planet pristine. Judging by the way this is headed, another Nevos isn’t looking very likely. You would think a few quarries on one continent would not impact the tourism on another, but it does. People begin to associate the planet with industry and forget its beauty, which is very easy to do with dozens of other garden worlds to choose from when planning one’s vacation. An entire world gone to waste for a bit of metal.”

“It sounds like you’re one of the matriarchs who oppose Dantrida,” Aria pointed out.

“Perhaps I am. I am disallowed to formally appeal my stance to the panel, as I must remain neutral, but I am entitled to my own opinions.”

“Why do you oppose them?”

“For reasons of longevity.” Tevos accessed a global map of Ryasus in the datapad, rotated the spherical diagram, and indicated the palladium deposit. “This is finite. A hundred years will pass and the palladium will be depleted. But recreation and tourism will persist for as long as our race does, or at the very least, for as long as the planet’s ecosystem tolerates us.” 

Aria retreated into her own thoughts for a time. “What company could compete with Dantrida if they went head to head? Is there anyone else like that here, or is Dantrida at the top of the food chain?”

“There are no corporate interests of similar size. But there is a government one that may not, in actuality, serve as much of an improvement over mining.” She gestured for Aria to lean in closer. 

Aria did so. As she neared her, their upper arms met and her instinct was to go rigid—not in diffidence, but out of unfamiliarity and underdeveloped trust. She repressed her urge and permitted the intimacy of their exchange, finding it thrilled her pressing desire for intel, and her curiosities.

“But,” whispered Tevos, “I again need your discretion. I’m telling you this at all because… Well, because the idea is just as unlikely to be fruitful as yours. You would do no harm to its feasibility. It’s a monastery.”

Aria’s brow furrowed.

“Albeit, a less… high-security one,” she emphasized. “It’s for the rehabilitation and reintegration of low-risk, low-incident individuals. You see, not every case is necessarily confined for life. Those that show no inclination toward violent or otherwise destructive behaviors, and show their condition can be controlled, are often admitted to programs that help them gradually rejoin society. This would be one such program. The matriarchy has been trying to find an adequate location for a new compound for the last decade or so. But as I said, I feel this would also damage tourism.”

“I don’t think it will,” said Aria. “It depends on what demographic of tourists you want to appeal to. Families? In that case you’re probably right. But young people, business executives, people with money to blow and images to improve… they’ll come in droves.”

“Excuse me?”

Aria shifted in her seat after the forearm bearing much of her weight on the chair’s armrest began to discomfort her. Their temples nearly touched. “Your monasteries are hidden. You don’t talk about them. You keep the colonies small, unappealing destinations for anyone without official business. Yet you still have problems with deterring visitors. Do you realize why? Because people are insecure about their impotencies and they’d do anything to convince you they’re not. They’ll hunt exotic animals, jump out of aircraft, and visit asylums full of mass murderers just so they can decorate their extranet profiles with the pictures. Why not let them do it?”

“Because it’s not safe. If anything ever happened…”

“The asari would look bad. I know. So make them look _good_ with this opportunity. You said it yourself, these are low-risk individuals. They’re not the bloodthirsty sociopaths we’re used to hearing about. So when you can safely mingle a monastery with tropical resorts, how will that look to the rest of the galaxy?”

Tevos’s consternation gradually began to soften. 

“Like the condition is not so great a shame for the asari as it’s made out to be?” Aria suggested. She said no more, instead allowing Tevos adequate time to process what had been proposed to her. It was a bold idea, one the councilor might not take to, but with Aria’s consortium at stake along with her diversification of income, there were few approaches too ludicrous to weave a strategy around.

“You… came up with that just now?”

Pride tugged at the corners of Aria’s lips until they resembled a smile. “It’s what I do.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” The councilor gracefully framed the compliment without diminishing herself, by employing mere simplicity. It was saying no more than what needed to be said. It made even honesty unimportant. 

Aria urged her, “Build your monastery out of the mountainside and ship me the soil you displace. Everything surrounding the compound, too.”

“I may have an even better solution,” said Tevos. “Monasteries under protocol of reintegration programs often sign contractual agreements with companies to employ inpatients as part of their rehabilitation. In the past they’ve successfully worked with breweries and livestock. If you’re really in the business of tobacco… Well, I’d first need to speak with the matriarchs, and you’d need to convene with your associates.” 

Aria nodded once. “I can do that.” 

Her answer pleased Tevos. She pulled away to close her portfolio and gather her other belongings, saying, “I’d best do that immediately. Please, arrange to call me after eighteen standard but no later than midnight, to confirm your availability to work with us. If all goes well, we should be able to negotiate terms early tomorrow morning.” The councilor accessed the tablet in her seat's arm and left her contact information. “And, Aria?”

While awaiting what more Tevos had to say, Aria nearly flinched when she felt a hand lightly rest over hers. Her hand was cool, but it kindled a warmth in the depths of Aria’s stomach that writhed and blazed with anticipation. 

“Thank you.” Tevos’s clear enunciation ensured her gratitude could not be miscommunicated. “The outcome of our meeting is far superior to what I expected.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Aria told her. She never looked away, not even when the councilor lifted her hand. One of her fingers slipped out from between Aria’s. 

Tevos rose from her seat. With her stood three other individuals; one slightly further along their same row, one below, and one above, who followed her out. 

When the councilor was at last beyond her sight, Aria recorded for herself the information she left behind. She inhaled deeply and slowly while addressing the illuminated stage once more but could not achieve peace within her mind. 

* * *

“I think it’s a great idea.”

The rumbling of distant thunder accompanied Senaya’s judgement. Aria stared from across the low table in the corner of Enoln and Nisani’s hotel room, unamused by her quick agreement. It meant she wan’t thinking. She wasn’t considering the implications of the approach.

“Charity.” Senaya glanced about the other partners for validation. “We’ll be improving the state of the… patients… by giving them something productive to do. Helping them get their lives back. Everyone loves a story like that.” She reached for a glass bowl of nuts and dried fruit on the table. 

“Charity,” said Enoln, “is for companies in dire need of better public relations. Ta’balor doesn’t need it.”

“He’s right,” Aria uncrossed her legs and leaned in to address them all. “Ta’balor is a luxury brand. Concerning themselves with charity will demean them. When customers think of their cigars, they’ll be thinking of poor people, and they don’t want to think about poor people. Charity is off the list. No further discussion.” She tapped the term _charity_ on the datapad in the center of the table, removing it from sight. A dozen other words and phrases remained. 

It had been almost an hour since Aria gathered them and relayed the plan she jointly contrived with the asari councilor. With their appeal before the panel looming, every partner had agreed with zeal. Thus began their desperate scramble for an angle, because they needed one if they were ever to successfully present the offer to Parem’s cousin, Carlak Omsohan.

Omsohan was the most successful scion of his old and distinguished family. Khar’shan tradition and culture ran thickly in this blood, disinclining him on principle to join hands with aliens. He had only been eager to work with Aria because of her Terminus reputability and relationship with Parem. She was a prestigious contact to maintain. Asari monasteries, on the other hand, were emblems of a foreign power with a long history of stifling batarian freedoms within Council space. Aria would not come to him with the offer as it was. She needed to _sell_ it to him. 

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have included Parem in the partner meeting. But Parem scorned bureaucrats with at least twice the heat Aria reserved for them, and would have fought the partners every step of the way upon learning they were in talks with a councilor. Aria had merely presumed her vote as being not in favor, counted it inadequate to overrule their majority, and proceeded in her absence. 

The sun had recently set behind the dark veil of storm clouds, thrusting the room into blue, premature dimness. Occasional flashes of lightning elongated the furniture’s shadows; thin diagonal lines outlining the shapes of palm leaves growing in the planter just beyond rain-streaked windows. 

Nisani rose to turn on the lights. When she returned, she read the next concept. “How about this one? The aspect of danger.” She smiled while holding Aria’s gaze. “I think people adore dangerous things at heart. Even when they say they don’t. It makes them feel alive, or more aware of being alive. Knowing that a cold-hearted killer touched the leaf in your cigar is… exciting.”

Aria reclined against the back of the sofa. “It’s provocative,” she said, pretending to ruminate as she glared at Nisani. “It attracts attention, gets people talking. But in the end it’s just another gimmick.”

The maiden didn’t take offense. What she lacked in subtlety, Aria thought, she made up for in perseverance.

“Doesn’t Ta’balor’s marketing handle problems like this?” Enoln asked. “We’re not responsible for selling product. We’re just trying to convince Omsohan that this is the only way we’re going to get our land on Ryasus. I think we should focus on downplaying the asari government’s involvement. Because if you boil it down to the essentials, all we’re really doing is contracting labor from them. They don’t get to dictate how we run the business at all. If they don’t like us, we look for different labor.”

“We are discussing this because we are thorough,” Aria firmly asserted. “Because if we don’t put a spin on this, Omsohan will shoot us down right out of the gate.”

They listened to her attentively, looking like they had all been caught in a lie. Rain pattered heavily against the windows.

“We need to demonstrate our resourcefulness,” she continued. “How we encountered a problem, then _handled_ it in the interest of the company. When I picked up your infinitesimal startups I was expecting executives with wit and imagination.”

She beheld them for a moment, quickly becoming infuriated by their meekness and stupidity. “Before I made the trip here, my lieutenants and advisors said this work was beneath me. I’ve already built my fortunes. I have a mining station to myself and all the mercs I need to keep it running smoothly. Why would I waste my time with busywork I could’ve sent an emissary on? Why this micromanaging nonsense? Well. I suppose _this_ incompetence justifies my coming.” She rose from her seat. 

“Where are you going?” Enoln asked. As Aria strode past the seating, he and the others turned around in shock. “What about the matriarchs? What about our deal?”

“I’m handling things from here,” said Aria. She collected her two bodyguards at the door. “If you say or do anything before I tell you to, you _will_ regret it.”

“Wait a minute—“

Aria was rid of them before Enoln could finish objecting. Without another disparaging word she stormed out of the hotel room, each step brisk with tightly controlled fury. They traveled the halls, passing under regularly-spaced ceiling lights and silvery doors only differentiated by room numbers glowing above their locks. 

While losing patience was never the wisest solution to any problem, Aria had allowed her displeasure to swell only because barring the partners from contributing to the final decision was inevitable. Certainly they could outvote and overturn her, but they wouldn’t. They didn’t have the nerve to try.

When Aria reached her suite, she dismissed her guards to their room across the hall. She set to work immediately within the luxurious confines by slapping a notepad and pen onto a breakfast table beside the wall-sized window pane, shrugging off her outer clothing to an undershirt and pants, and indiscriminately selecting a bottle of rum from the room’s miniature fridge. Her first intemperate swig, straight from the bottle, didn’t burn quite like it should have. 

Aria stood before the window, keeping one hand around the bottle's neck while the other rested on her hip. The curtains of rain made the lush foliage of the forest appear as a murky wash of black under the building’s exterior lights cutting the darkness. Faraway leaves shuddered as they endured the downpour.

There she drank, contemplated, and listened to the storm for nearly half an hour. The notepad remained unmarred. Once, upon lifting the bottle, Aria decided she had consumed enough and rubbed her chin with her thumb instead. When she thought to busy her hands with a cigarette, she fitted one of her last ones between her lips, flicked her lighter several times, but found the device malfunctioning or spent.

The lighter clattered into the bottom of a waste bin. Aria then turned on the ceiling lights, faced the bed, and placed a bare foot on the mattress. She brought herself up to stand and raised an arm to hold the end of her cigarette against the warming glass, squinting under assault of brightness. The thin tendril of smoke she anticipated was never emitted. Eventually, Aria realized the lighting fixtures were modern and more energy-efficient compared to some of the ancient bulbs still burning on Omega. A cocktail of desperation and foolishness raced through her blood. She lowered her arm, tossed the cigarette onto the nightstand, and returned her feet to the floor. 

Aria placed a call to the hotel’s service. She opted to speak to a VI, riding on the logic that computers could generally be trusted to perform their functions correctly and speedily, and requested to the automated voice that a new lighter be purchased and delivered to her. 

“I’m sorry,” the VI said. “Dispensing narcotics and narcotics accessories is against hotel policy.”

Aria shut her eyes and exhaled. “Then where can I get one?”

“I am permitted to suggest a gift shop near your room’s location. If you would like, I can email you a map with directions to the store, as well as its catalogue.”

“Do that.”

The moment Aria terminated the call, the promised message arrived at her inbox. She was tempted to placed an order for a lighter, but an impulse persuaded her to close the window in her omni-tool and make the trip in person. Alone. 

Aria pulled on her shoes and light jacket before tucking her blank notepad into an interior pocket. 

* * *

She never physically set foot in the store. It was little more than a kiosk in an indoor plaza, and its immediate neighbor was a high-end bar and restaurant called Belaisa. The kiosk was impacted by racks of popular consumables and small souvenirs on each side of its terminal. A shelf behind the single employee contained larger items: handbags, collapsable umbrellas, and dolls made of a highly recognizable Nevos bird, the _briathy_ , which had been adopted as an unofficial symbol of the colony.

Brilliant red plumage was replicated with selective integrity. While the fabric color boasted the vivacity of fire which nature had gifted the bird, its claws were reduced to friendlier, softer nubs. The reality of predation was ignored, and the mystery of its itinerary habits domesticated. 

Rather than approach the kiosk, Aria oriented her body toward Belaisa. 

A bartender in the lounge area supplied her with a lighter when she bought dinner from her two-person booth against a ground glass divider. The delivery of her plate of toasted sandwiches and a glass of local gin was prompt, and although both items were prepared with pretension as a key ingredient, Aria didn’t mind. Here, she was being taken seriously and attempts were actively being made to impress her, as was due for her custom. 

When she turned the lighter over in her hand, she saw that its metal side bore the first asari character of the establishment’s name in embellished gold font. 

Sometime during the evening spent slowly consuming her meal and staring at the blank notepad in front of her, Aria turned to peer through the hazy glass panel sectioning the bar off from the main dining area. Blurry outlines of overhead lights, patrons, and tables composed her view. Aria inferred the neat white uniforms worn by servers drifting about. The guests, undoubtedly in possession of turgid wallets to accomodate the steep price range of Belaisa, sported dark colors to suit the hour. Save for one individual at a central table. 

Aria could make out an asari in dark red, the same red the councilor had worn that morning. She wondered if this dress was also made of short velvet, if it was as equally fond of its wearer's body shape, and if it shone under light like Serrice wines to produce a gradation of hue and texture sweet enough to rouse Aria's appetite. More detrimentally, she imagined it was the councilor herself. Aria could almost hear her voice again, prodding at all her mental resources like she knew her, or wanted to know her.

When Aria turned away from the glass her hand darted to her lips, bringing her lit cigarette with it to steal a drag in diversion. She looked again before long, but not without finding the frivolity of her interest to be borderline obscene, like that of a maiden chasing first intimacies.

Still, when she next saw her waitress, she waved the uniformed asari over. 

“How can I be of service?”

“I’d like to order a drink,” said Aria. “But not for myself. For the one over there. Red dress.”

The waitress lifted herself onto her toes to briefly peer over the divider. “I see. What would you like to send over?”

“Let her choose. Tell her I’m covering any drink on the menu. Sealed bottles included.”

“Very well. Shall I let her know who it’s from?”

Aria tapped a few fingers onto the table while thinking. “No.”

She watched her round the end of the divider and followed her silhouette. Gin warmed her throat and chest when she lifted her glass again. The waitress approached the table and secured the attention of the one in red, leaning in to relay Aria’s offer in private. Meanwhile, Aria felt unnatural tension seizing her hands. She had been mindlessly smashing the filter of her cigarette between her fingers and stopped once she became aware.

Splintered into ultra-fine fractals was the image of the asari in red nodding to the waitress, who then withdrew from the table to head back. When she reached Aria’s booth, she reported, “She said she would like what you’ve been drinking.”

Aria patiently waited for the bartender to replicate her drink and send it to a server for delivery. But when it arrived at its destination, Aria did not feel satisfied. Her stare, once fixed on a red-clad arm reaching for the glass and raising it to her lips, receded its depth until Aria merely saw a matte surface through which light coincidentally passed. 

A small dish on the table received the end of her dwindling cigarette as she smashed it against the shallow bottom. Before she could thoroughly contemplate her next course of action, Aria placed a call in the interface of her omni-tool and listened to the flat tone of the line ringing for nearly fifteen seconds. Her fingertips grazed the curves of the dish. She could not keep still. 

“Miss T’Loak?”

The formality disappointed Aria, especially after hearing her say her name that morning. “Councilor,” she replied.

“It’s not yet eighteen. Has something gone wrong on your end?”

“Quite the opposite.” Aria took the rim of her glass into her fingers and rotated it on a swiveling axis. Ice clattered against its sides. “We’re all set. What have the matriarchs said?”

“You really do malign following anyone’s rules, don’t you?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Indeed,” came Tevos’s dry response. “I suppose now that you’ve already interrupted what leisure time I’ve managed to catch, I might as well inform you that the matriarchs have tentatively agreed to holding a meeting with you tomorrow. They liked our ideas. They did not like, however, us holding the conversation that produced them.”

Aria frowned. “What’s their problem? They were having trouble and we offered a solution. They should be grateful.”

“It’s the _principle_ of the matter that upset them. Namely us collaborating without, ah, supervision. They ascribed my supposed lapse of judgement to my greenness. I didn’t try to argue. At this time I’d rather seem impressionable than dissident.”

“You want them to think they control you,” Aria deduced. “I think I’d do the same.”

Tevos was quiet for a time. “Well, it doesn’t matter much. I’ll be seeing you early in the morning, in a conference room near the petitioning hall. I’ll send you the details.”

“Breakfast had better be provided.”

That made Tevos laugh, softly and earnestly. “I’ll see if I can arrange something.”

This time, both were quiet. Neither terminated the call. When Aria finally spoke again, she lowered her voice to the point where she could hardly hear herself over the restaurant’s chatter, and her words were only preserved by the noise-cancelling capabilities of her implant.

“We should get a drink together when this headache is over. This is a vacation spot, after all.”

“I…” Tevos’s answer endured a stumbling start. “Well, that’s quite nice of you to offer.”

“I want you to think about it. We’re here all week. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Yes. I’ll… give it consideration. Have a good night, Aria.”

“Goodnight.”

Despite the councilor's nebulous answer, Aria was content for the moment. Now Tevos knew she wanted to see her, and that alone sufficed. Aria comprehended the power of an idea; the potential to fashion reality from a fleeting, seeded thought. Prior to explicating her intentions, her chances of success were approximately nil.

They weren't so dismal anymore. 

As soon as they disconnected, Aria drew her pen, applied its tip to the notepad, and left behind a single word: _Control._ She circled it twice. 

* * *

She retired to her room before midnight, a behavior absolutely unheard of while throned in Afterlife. But she had more calls to make. 

The first call was placed after Aria settled into an armchair near the bedside. When her correspondent answered, she was greeted by two very familiar faces projected in the window of her omni-tool. The first was the face of a matron, leveled and patient with weariness hardly effaced by her mild bearing.

“Aria,” she said, “I’m glad to hear from you. How’s the resort?”

“I’ve been working,” Aria answered. “But it’s been a good place for it.” Her gaze quickly strayed from the matron to the smaller person in her arms; a wide-eyed baby still dressed for bed despite it being designated morning on the station. “Has she just woken up?”

“A little while ago,” said the sitter. She fondly turned to the little girl. “I’m going to get her some breakfast in a minute.”

The baby pointed at the hologram of Aria, her expression one of excitement and bewilderment. She looked back at her sitter for confirmation. 

“Who’s that, Liselle? Is that your mama?” 

Liselle’s attention oscillated between her sitter and her mother. When she was encouraged to wave, she made an admirable attempt. 

“I ordered something for her,” said Aria. “One of those plush animals. A Nevos briathy.”

“Those beautiful red birds, right? I’ve seen them in a few films.”

She nodded. “I had it sent to one of the girls. She’ll bring it by when it arrives.”

“I’m sure Liselle will love it.”

Aria watched her daughter squirm in the arms of her secondary guardian. She was overcome by a powerful desire to hold her, to be present and near. To otherwise convey her ineffable affections for her baby, she offered, “Do you need anything else while I’m gone? I may be far off but if there’s something you or Liselle need I can certainly arrange for it.”

“I think we’re managing." The sitter gently discouraged Liselle from grabbing at the buttons on her shirt. "But thank you.” 

When Liselle’s fussing began to derail the discussion about her, Aria bid the sitter a good day. She looked at Liselle until the light of her image disappeared, and dwelled on the sweetness of her face, how small her hands were, and how much she resembled herself. Silence befell the room but the solitude did not persist for long.

Aria’s second call encountered more placement difficulties than the first. She was wired through a secretary, then an agent, before she reached Carlak Omsohan himself. She caught him at his wooden desk monitoring an assistant pouring a drink. Omsohan was aging but not yet old, and given to wearing fashionably dark clothes embodying all the drab cheer of a company built from the ashes of another. Aria could see the distinctly Khar'shan skyline beyond the window at Omsohan's back. With his drink in hand, Omsohan dismissed the assistant, who gave a canted nod of his head before swiftly departing.

“Aria T’Loak," Omsohan regarded her. "I wonder if you calling me is an indicator of bad news.”

“There was an issue," Aria said with nonchalance. She reclined in the armchair and folded a leg across her knee. "I won’t hide the fact that there was.”

“And everything’s been handled? I would assume as much. Given your involvement."

“We have a solution. But of course, it’s your company. We need your consent.”

As he scrutinized her, Omsohan appeared as though he could not decide whether to be amused or suspicious. “Then let’s hear what you have in mind.”

“First," said Aria, "a question.”

Suspicion triumphed. Omsohan stalled to think by inserting a thin metal stirrer into his drink and slowly agitating the ice. “You realize I would afford few others this leniency.”

“And I would afford few others my effort in solving their problems.”

His hand paused. When he met her eyes through their digital proxies, a vague smile contorted his mouth. “I’ll take your question.”

Aria delayed just a moment more before speaking. Her question, a strategic probe, was nevertheless submitted for genuine curiosity as well. “Why bring your business to an asari world? Your people are always very dissatisfied by how the Council treats them. Your culture and religious liberties have faced excessive censure. Why their soil?”

He gave her a hard look. Apparently he was sensitive enough to the matter to treat it with utmost severity. “Because someone needs to assert our presence on a more galactic scale," said Omsohan. "Most aliens don’t like to work with batarians, Aria. I don’t need to tell you that. We have a very rocky relationship with the rest of society. But what I want for my brand is to show everyone how Ta’balor can survive off Khar’shan. That we can appeal to many markets and establish new trade routes. What I want... is to show the galaxy a superior product, made by arguably superior people.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. The phantom scent of blood was in the air, an auspice of her prey's imminent capture. “How would you feel if I told you there was contractually-obligated asari labor on the table? That they _need_ us to employ them?”

Omsohan calmly, but intently, sat upright and folded his hands onto his desk. 

“These are afflicted asari with no choice but to work or be imprisoned forever. Same thing, really. They're prime examples of my people’s… imperfections. Symbols of our failings.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“The asari don’t like people knowing too much about the Ardat-Yakshi. They're seen as an incorrigible blemish, a problem we keep trying to sweep under the rug using desperate ideology. We don't like talking about it. But you can talk about them to your people, or whomever, as much as you like. You can talk about the _collar_ you have around the shame of the most successful race in the galaxy.” Aria averted her gaze to the nightstand beside her armrest. She lifted the cigarette she left there earlier, showing Omsohan the small seal on the paper to let him know it was one of his. “I’m offering you a chance to control some of the people who’ve controlled you.”

He became contemplative for a time, lending no indication of what his thoughts were until he wetted his lips, reached for the intercom button on his desk, and said into the discreet microphone, “Get a secretary in here. I want a recorder and a witness to an offer.”


	3. Chapter 3

The morning was gray and a light rain persisted. Begrudgingly, Aria entered the conference room with her bodyguards, still feeling dazed and her eyelids heavy from downing a few drinks past her usual limit the previous night. A dozen other asari of varying ages - most well into or beyond their matron years - convened within the glossy wood panelling. Gloom poured through the windows, subduing their diverse clothing to a drab monochrome pageant. 

Aria scanned their faces for the councilor's stark white tattoos but found that she was not yet among them. Instead, Senaya noticed Aria and accosted her. 

A table held metal containers of food along with plates, dining ware, and bottled drinks. It appeared to Aria that her request for breakfast had been fulfilled. She wondered what trouble Tevos had gone through to arrange it. If it had been significant at so short of notice or if she had planned this all along, if it was indeed provided by Tevos and not the other matriarchs.  

Aria browsed the food with Senaya, hoping her company would deter anyone else from approaching her. There was seafood in a buttery sauce, fresh fruit, spiced sausages, and a tray of flat bread. It smelled admittedly delicious. Further investigation revealed chilled desserts in small cups beneath the gleaming lid of one container.

While serving themselves, Senaya glanced at Aria to say, “Listen, I’m sorry we weren’t of much help last night. We’re used to having more time to come up with ideas like… what you were looking for.”

Without returning the glance, Aria replied, “It’s done.” She set down a serving spoon to select a bottle of water from the offered beverages. “Keep higher expectations of yourself. I can’t stand it when people tell me they’re unable to do something.” She met Senaya’s eyes with firm insistence. 

Senaya quickly looked away. “Maybe you can,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Maybe you can do anything you want. But most people aren’t like you.”

“Well. Count on that being true.”

They retreated to the far end of the conference table where the concentration of people was lightest. Senaya soon spotted Enoln and Nisani arrive. She went to chat with them, leaving Aria alone with her bodyguards who stood looming no more than two paces behind her chair, keeping their backs to the windows as they contentedly dipped spoons into dessert cups.  

Aria began to eat as well, but her attention strayed upon noticing the councilor come in accompanied by her security guards and a personal assistant carrying her things. The warm hue of the burgundy coat Tevos wore chased the dreary morning daze away and replaced the subtle throbbing of Aria’s head with cautious optimism. 

As Tevos headed toward the food, she wove through the loose ranks of matriarchs and greeted each of those she encountered. She designated what she wanted to her assistant, who assembled her plate while the councilor read from a datapad. When she looked over at the conference table, her gaze met Aria’s, brightening a bit with the light of recognition. 

Aria liked the way she looked at her. Tevos hadn’t looked at any of the other matriarchs like that. Not one. 

Her eyes never abandoned Aria all throughout her approach, until a plate carrying tidy, sparing portions descended to a spot beside Aria’s. “Good morning,” Tevos pleasantly said. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Morning,” Aria answered. She noticed the fragrance of mulled berries again. It was even more refreshing than her first experience, back when she had yet to develop a specific craving for it. 

Once the councilor was comfortable, she extended a hand to receive a bag from her personal assistant. “As promised,” she said to Aria, “I gave your offer some consideration last night.” She produced a pair of drinking glasses and a small bottle of sparkling wine, containing just two or three servings at most. It was placed on the table between their plates, softly glowing chartreuse through finely-ground glass.

Her curiosity piqued, Aria took it in hand to examine the ornate label. It depicted the prestigious vintner’s name within red ovular framing. She might have been impressed by the reputation and chosen year promising optimal aging, had these favorable qualities not been meant in appeasement. 

“You know this isn’t what I had in mind,” Aria said while she set the bottle down in its former position.

“It’s what we’re allowed to have in mind,” replied Tevos. She wrapped her slender fingers around the cap, and with very minimal effort, broke the seal. Her wrist tilted toward their glasses. Aria blandly watched pale wine fill them halfway. 

The glass was cool to the touch when she received her share. Tevos had kept them chilled. They raised them and they clinked so softly together that Aria barely heard them touching over the protesting hum in her skull. She wasn’t in the mood to drink. Her only consolation was tasting what the councilor tasted; the pungent bite of alcohol smoothed over by accents of fruit, and made acrid again by carbonation. 

They ate together, quietly for the first few minutes. Aria listened to their metal utensils tapping against their plates, and the hushed thud of glasses returning to the table. But she found herself becoming restless again and spoke to dispel formality. 

“What can we expect to deal with today?”

“Well,” Tevos answered, "we need to negotiate wages for the workers, since part of what they make will go to the monastery. Then we’ll need to estimate their hours, where the monastery can be built, where the surrounding agriculture would be, discuss transportation options… and we’ll need to assemble a joint presentation for the panel. A marriage between what we’ve already prepared separately shouldn’t be too difficult, I think. It’ll be three hours at best.”

Annoyance darkened Aria’s tone as she added, “And there’s still the panel hearings later.”

“Such is business and politics,” Tevos admitted. 

“At least we had the sense to drink before it all.”

Her quip put Tevos on the verge of a laugh, but she repressed it to say, “We may also need to allay a few concerns that have been brought to my attention.” She paused after gathering a bit of food on her spoon, not yet delivering it to her mouth until she had completed her current thought. “One complaint came from a matriarch who takes offense at the idea of making Ardat-Yakshi a ‘tourist attraction’ or an otherwise publicized feature of the colony. She says it depersonalizes them.”

“Yes, well, I’d think locking someone in a box and segregating them from the rest of society already does that to a person.” Aria raised her glass to her lips.

“Do you really feel that way?”

Aria became suspicious of where Tevos was trying to take the conversation. “Don’t read too far into it. Just say whatever you want to her, whatever gets her to shut up and go along with us.”

“Fair enough,” said Tevos. “Did you see the desserts?”

“I don’t eat desserts.”

“It’s not my custom to either. But I’m thinking about making an exception today. It _is_ your birthday, after all.”

Perplexity furrowed Aria’s brow when she faced her, finding good humor in the councilor’s expression. 

“As they say,” Tevos elaborated, “the hardest part of lying is keeping your story straight.” She turned toward the matriarchs, implicitly bidding Aria to follow her line of sight. “They’re all celebrating you and they don’t even know it,” she whispered.

Aria couldn’t stand the ambiguity of her friendliness. How the councilor, with her tiny bottle of wine, insisted they keep their distance only to invite Aria closer with other gestures. It drove her mad. She could not stop thinking about the way she had touched her on the hand yesterday, how the simple intimacy sent uneasy pleasure slithering through her bones, nor would she stop hunting for the statement inherent in Tevos’s decision to sit with her now and not with those she was more familiar with.

“Let me take you to lunch.” Aria was sure to sound nonchalant.

“…Pardon?”

“After the panel hearing. Belaisa at twelve.”

Tevos’s lips parted but no sound left them, rather contributing to her expression of bafflement. She abandoned the false start to capture her personal assistant’s attention. “Can you do something for me?” She interfaced with her datapad a moment before showing it to the assistant. “I want you to make sure everyone here has a copy of this document.”

The assistant nodded and left them, allowing Tevos to address Aria’s request. She folded her hands onto the table and pensively wrung them together. The air between them felt heavier, as if the water vapor outside had penetrated the conference room and condensed into an uncertain fog, slowly suffocating.

When Tevos replied, just above a whisper, her tone was sincere and contrite. “Perhaps I’ve been giving you the wrong impression.”

Aria’s eyes lingered on her profile, tracing the noble bridge of her nose to her lips, then flicked up again to catch her gaze. “Have you?”

Tevos shook her head. It was not her answer, but a means to convey dissatisfaction. “I suppose I should explain. Abstinence from certain… indulgent behaviors is imparted by my position. I hold a public office. A very visible one. I’m expected to keep myself in appropriate company.”

Aria was not yet discouraged. “So what makes me inappropriate?”

“Well… you run a station full of criminals and mercenaries, to start.”

“Not because I’m asari?”

A short, fatalistic laugh arose on Tevos’s voice. “Compared to a host of other qualms, that one is hardly worth my anxiety.” They looked at one another a while, quite incredulously on Tevos’s end, until she felt compelled to volunteer another reason. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s why I’m buying you lunch.” Aria smiled, then lowered her voice. “Answer one question for me. If you were someone else, would you have lunch with me?”

“If I were someone else, would you have asked?”

They were silent again. Tevos unfolded a napkin and pretended to wipe her hands of some nonexistent food debris, while Aria held her drink to her lips and sipped, pretending to enjoy it. 

Eventually, Tevos sighed. “Aria, listen. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. You’re alarmingly likable. But I don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I suggest that you’re getting ahead of yourself. I’ve known you _a day_.”

Aria scoffed. “I’ve had less fun with people I’ve known longer.”

“Flattering,” said Tevos, “but not convincing. I don’t think you understand my position.”

“I think I do. I think you haven’t allowed yourself a good time in years.”

Tevos abruptly inhaled as she took offense, but did not immediately refute Aria’s accusation. She closed her eyes to calm herself before her emotions manifested too brazenly. “There’s a difference between having a good time and acting irresponsibly, in desperation to give whatever you think you’ll have of me.”

“I only asked for lunch. Now I think you’re inventing things that aren’t there.” 

The councilor appeared relieved when she noticed her personal assistant returning to her side. Despite her shift in focus, Aria persistently waited for a new response that better suited her aim. Tevos didn’t have anything of the sort for her. At the next opportunity, when the room’s chatter reached a peak, she said, “Sit with me again during the petitions. That’s all I can give you.”

Aria watched her and was watched in return as she pondered her answer. She liked having Tevos’s eyes on her, even in hard scrutiny, when cold steeliness emerged from caution. She looked alive, awake, while the world around them slept.

She knew what she wanted. Aria knew precisely what she wanted but was being led to settle for a middling figment of her true desires, an intentionally limited taste. Settling was a fate equivalent to receiving nothing at all. Settling would see her interest fade like an unperturbed flame left to extinguish on its own, so slowly she wouldn’t recognize its failing until it was completely gone. 

Aria tapped a spoon against the edge of her plate. The sound dulled when she clutched its handle firmly between her fingers. “All right,” she said.

* * *

At the time of the petition’s start, Aria passed through clouds of noise drifting out of storefronts, restaurants, and lounges, with her bodyguards close behind. 

She felt trite in manila. It was a cheerful tone, meant for tourists and affluents bleached by foreign suns. Those without a care. But the cloth only reminded her of dense gauze barely holding her body together.

They reached a small facility devoted to water recreations. Its pools were popular during the heat and sun of the summer months, but as the weather turned more temperamental, customers were inclined to spend their days avoiding water altogether. In the negative space where a wall might have shielded them from the elements, a curtain of rain poured down from the next floor and rang metallically as it rushed into drainage chutes. The clouds did not darken the sky quite enough for the overhead lights to flicker on.

Aria had no trouble renting an hour at a warmed pool meant for small, private parties. Her guards strode further into the room than she, past its benches and shelves for clothing, and to the other side of the pool. They faced a glistening row of plants that peeked over the railing while their boss undressed.

The chill in the air bit at Aria’s bare skin. Her muscles involuntarily tensed and braced in shivering protest. She only managed to relax again after slipping into the heated water and leaning against the shallow edge, where she shut her eyes and attempted to think of nothing. Aria listened to the rain showering the canopies and focused on the soothing ebb of the water submerging her body, convincing herself for but a moment that her lot in life was simple, and so were her desires. 

Her omni-tool buzzed on her wrist. Aria’s eyes snapped open at the disturbance, bearing a gleam of irritation as she raised her wet forearm from the pool. At the motion, an orange hologram lit up like fire burning through cool blue air. The message read, _Where are you?_

Aria dwelled on the words long enough to read them several times. The breaths that next left her lungs were short and strained, as if some malevolent weight had descended upon her chest. Eventually she keyed out, _Not there._

 _So when you ask me to dine with you in public_ , _that is acceptable,_ _but when I ask you to sit with me during the petition, that is too outrageous a request?_  

 _I didn’t feel like sitting there, bored, for hours,_ Aria replied. _It’s a waste of time._

She read the councilor’s reply not a minute later. 

 _And what of my company? I wanted yours_.

Aria didn't answer. She wasn’t in the mood to be strung along a feeble trail of halves and conditions, weighed down by enough interpersonal protocol to ensure nothing ever happened. 

Aria wiped a hand over her face, feeling the return of her headache. Her eyes stung. She had gotten water in them and tried blinking it away.

Upon reclining against the pool’s side after closing the window of her omni-tool, Aria felt the tip of her crest touch cold tile. Tendrils of steam rose sporadically from the water’s surface. She stared through their screen at the crystalline light writhing on the bottom of the pool, where the tile mosaics wavered amorphously, until her eyes unfocused. Many minutes passed as she struggled to subdue burning dissatisfaction.

Slowly, Aria’s melancholy, self-imposed solitude, and even her physical nakedness, coalesced into a scene of mild desperation. She was giving the situation too much thought. _Brooding_ ; a grave symptom of her head not being on straight. No matter how Aria interpreted reality, there had been valuable truth in Tevos’s reasoning that morning. An obsession, nurtured over a single day, should not have influenced her as much as it had. 

After all, it wasn’t as though Aria was starved of relations. Her personal history burgeoned with interesting people joining her in bed. But there was _something_ about the councilor - something in the way she addressed, considered, and accompanied her without obsequiousness - that made Aria feel like she hadn’t been with anyone for years. What an impotent feeling that was, to retroactively feel, in essence, untouched and unsatisfied. She hated it.

Worse yet, it was entirely possible that Tevos _felt sorry for her_ , which might have explained her interest in locating her rather than recognizing the meaning behind Aria’s gesture of absence. That, more than anything else, was unacceptable. Aria would not stand to be pitied under any circumstance.

She gestured one of her guards over. While Aria rose from the water, her asari guard peeled herself away from the railing, fetched a white rented robe off the hook of a rack, and held it open for her boss to slip her arms into. Aria tied the belt around her waist and was handed an extra towel.

“We’re leaving,” said Aria. She dried herself before turning to her folded clothes lying on the poolside bench. 

The vibration of her omni-tool interrupted her when she was pulling her pants on. It buzzed in a steady rhythm, alerting Aria to a call and not a text message. Expecting the councilor again, Aria swiftly finished fastening her belt to check the caller’s ID, but it was not who she anticipated.

It was Parem Igrahal. 

Aria expelled a disdainful breath and took the call on audio-only.

“What the _hell_ is the matter with you, Aria?”

Parem’s indignity assaulted her ears the instant Aria answered. It didn’t faze her. “Judging by your tone,” Aria replied, “it sounds like you’re the one with a problem, not me.”

“I can’t believe you’ve done all this behind my back! A _monastery?_ Are you insane?”

Once Aria had pulled her undershirt over her head and her arms through its sleeves, her hands slid down to her hips where they firmly rested. “If you have something valuable to say, Parem, you’d better do it now. I don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t know what those bureaucrats gave you, or what lies you’ve told my cousin, but I hope you realize that you’re about to make Ta’balor the laughing stock of the batarian cigar industry! So what did they give you, Aria? Or are you just more loyal to your race than to your _people?_ ”

“You want to talk to me about race?” As she snapped at Parem, Aria shoved her robe and towel into the chest of her guard, who clumsily received them. The rising volume of her voice echoed over the water. “Then open some of those fucking extra eyes of yours and notice that _race_ would’ve convinced you to let our plans go down in flames, that _race_ made your dumbass cousin Carlak eager to swallow the delusion of enslaving some sick asari that I fed him, and that _race_ has the matriarchy willing to work with someone like me just to affirm their genetic superiority. Without me, Ta’balor’s Ryasus branch would’ve been a quarry by next month.”

“Without _you?_ You think Ta’balor needs you? Don’t make me laugh. There will be a million other opportunities for expansion in the future. Ones that _don’t_ involve asari meddling.”

“It sounds like you want to cut me out of the business,” Aria deduced. There was venom in her voice. “Is that what’ll get you what you want? Then go to Omsohan. Tell him all about how I’m sabotaging his business. Convince his board to rescind my partnership deal. Meanwhile, back here on Nevos, the consortium is still mine. I’ll get them, I’ll get my land, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want with it. You’ll be the only loser here.”

Parem sighed in irritation. “We never know what you’re up to, Aria. We never know what’s going through your head, whether you’re going to stay true to the plan or go off on your own. This says a lot about you. Portraying asari as slaves to my cousin while tidying up their image for the matriarchs. Whose side are you really on?”

“I say what needs to be said and I do what needs to be done. It’s as simple as that.”

“Well I worry that you’re on your own side.”

Aria put her shoes on and took her matching manila jacket from her bodyguard before donning it as well. “That’s unfortunate, isn’t it? Panic, worry, and accuse me all you like. In the meantime I’ll be focusing on getting the job done.”

The line was silent until Parem surfaced from her evident doubts. “Aria, call me if things go well. Call me if things go badly. But I reserve every right to be worried, because you and I both know that getting the asari matriarchy involved in batarian business is inviting a mess of trouble to Ta’balor and its investors.”

“Then aren’t you glad _I’m_ handling things instead of anyone else?”

The lack of an immediate reply prompted Aria to terminate the call. She finished dressing, motioned for her bodyguards to follow, and they left the pool. The mosaic below the water settled as the waves gently rocked and grew tranquil again.

* * *

The rainy weather had rolled in a false twilight at midday. Storefronts of the high-end commercial floors seemed to melt into a fevered chrome and gold blur, dappled by the fans of palm plants. A pastel haze. The apparent distortion was easily ascribed to a multitude of light sources, all aimed at glittering product and their surrounding glass and metal enclosures, reflecting and refracting infinitely throughout the indoor avenues and their polished floors.

Aria felt quite at home. Although she wore her detested manila and had been inconvenienced to wash the unpleasant halogen scent from her skin with common hand soap, the frustration churning in the pit of her stomach had considerably subsided. She felt empowered by an ability to own anything her gaze touched, to feel without self-reprimand every fleeting whim toward one purchase or another.

Her satisfaction came not from strictly wanting or owning, but from her simple capacity to do so. All the world was available. All the world and its riches could fall into her pocket if she chose to have them, and she would never be left wanting. Designer clothes, jewelry, the waxed luxury skycar parked beneath a warm spotlight in the center of a busy concourse... She had labored all her life for access to these things. They were practically hers. 

Most importantly, Aria’s wealth and success would remain indisputable with or without Parem Igrahal’s support, and with or without Councilor Tevos’s attention.

She bought several things while killing time in the mall. Clothes for herself, some gourmet sweets for her batarian bodyguard upon asking him what he’d like if he could have anything at that very moment, and for her asari bodyguard, a bottle of her favorite perfume as expensive as liquid palladium in equal volume. And she felt good about these purchases; good about the insouciance of her providence. 

When they came to stand before the window of a jeweler, Aria paused at the sight of a large diamond on display. It was the size of her fist - a purely ornamental object that should have been fake, but likely wasn’t - slowly rotating with planetary poise, its facets shining, above rows of rings and necklaces like stars in the firmament.

An idea to buy something for the councilor crossed her mind. It was an idle daydream in which Aria knew her sizes and preferences, where the gift would be accepted with enthusiasm rather than the more realistic disquiet, and where some variable degree of intimacy would come of it. 

But that was not the natural function of people. Those who had historically responded well to her gifts already wanted Aria in the first place, and wanting was infinitely more difficult to incept than to feed.

With her hands stowed in her pockets and a stony expression hanging on her features, Aria looked away from the window to glance back at her untroubled bodyguards. She knew without doubt that they would die for her, but she was not sure if it was because they loved _her_ , or because they loved what she did for them. 

 _If it all evaporated into thin air_ , she morbidly thought of her wealth, _then how quick would they be to interrupt the path of a few bullets?_

Was the allegiance of everyone only to their private desires, and would they turn on her if it became opportune? The uncertainty growing inside her accelerated her thoughts, bloomed them into a map of scenarios and solutions until she had made herself considerably paranoid. 

Leaping to suspicion had kept her alive for many years, but it also haunted her like a recurrent illness whose symptoms manifested in her hands stiffening with unbidden adrenaline. Aria stared at the window, not seeing beyond it. She saw, in painful detail, her face and those of her bodyguards in the reflection and she could hear the soothing ambient music and people chattering around them. 

And then she noticed, originating from a bench between two potted palm plants across the walkway, a localized flash of light. Aria fixated on the apparent source: an inconspicuous asari in tourist attire whose line of sight collided with their backs. She was young. A maiden. When she looked down at her lap, the maiden flicked through the screens of her omni-tool, then stopped to resume staring at the trio in front of the jeweler. 

Aria motioned her batarian bodyguard forward. Once he stepped up to her shoulder, she pretended to indicate something in the store, but immediately clarified that she was pointing at the reflection in the window. 

“Do you see her?”

He followed the lead of her index finger. “The one on the bench?”

“Yes.”

“Is she a problem?”

“Watch.”

They waited. Sure enough, the camera of the asari’s omni-tool was aimed and they saw another flicker of light. 

“Let’s see if she’s following us,” Aria said. She decided to forego patience and precision for a more direct approach, and calmly relayed her plans to him. “Listen to me carefully. If she _has_ been following us, in about fifteen seconds I might be making something of a scene. Don’t make it any bigger than it has to be. I don’t want cops involved.”

“Understood,” he replied. “Lead the way. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Tell Phaira to stay here. I only want you with me.”

“Can do.” He caught the attention of the other guard, whispered, and burdened her with their purchases to free his hands.

Aria stepped back from the storefront, turned on her heel, and directly faced the unknown girl. 

The maiden leapt up from her seat and fled without hesitation. Aria gave chase as soon as she was in motion. Her target raced down the walkway on panicked strides, weaving and slipping between startled shoppers. On one occasion she hit her shoulder against the side of a kiosk and sent a well-organized rack of holodisks clattering to the floor. 

Aria and her guard followed the path she had carved. Their shoes clapped against hard, clean marble as they sprinted, and vaulted themselves over a planter of ferns to swiftly close the distance between them and the girl. Just as Aria came within an arm’s reach, the maiden abruptly dashed left into a narrow space between stores that lead to restrooms.

That was where Aria caught her. Bright blue flashed and wrapped around the chest of the girl mid-stride to yank her back. Aria grabbed two fistfuls of clothes, pushed her through the door of the nearest restroom, and slammed her up against the wall beside the sinks and mirror hard enough for her captive to gasp for breath. 

The girl frantically began to plead before Aria could demand to know who she worked for. “Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, I just wanted your picture! No one would ever believe me if I said I saw you here, so…“

Aria’s batarian bodyguard burst into the restroom and swiftly crowded the scene, implicitly offering to take his boss’s place in strong-arming the maiden. She shook her head to decline, already beginning to fathom the mistake they had made.

“I’m sorry!” The girl sobbed. “Please don’t hurt me! I just think you’re amazing and I—”

In the periphery of her vision, Aria noticed additional occupants of the restroom. It was a turian mother holding the hand of her child, keeping the cowering little one behind her in a corner of the room as she fixed an intense stare on Aria and her guard. 

Aria irately exhaled. Her grip on the girl relented and she slowly returned her feet to the floor. “Go,” she commanded the bystanders, gesturing at the door with a tilt of her head. They hurriedly shuffled past, allowing Aria to turn back to the maiden once they were alone. “Not a word of this to the authorities, do you understand? If you complicate my life I _will_ complicate yours, and then some.”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just… _wow._ Wow. I think you bruised my ribs…”

The starstruck incredulity of the girl’s voice convinced Aria to let go of her altogether as if she had been touching something foul. 

In an attempt to keep her quiet so their stay on Nevos would not be cut short by local authorities, Aria had deigned to sign her name in black marker on the quarter of the girl's shoe. Normally, she considered it to be beneath her and unworthy of her time. It was reductive. It made her name a cheap novelty to be passed around like a trinket. But this maiden in particular had lessened the bitterness with which she had proceeded. 

With the altercation more or less resolved, they exited the restroom and exchanged uncomfortable words of parting. From the mouth of the alley, Aria watched the girl leave at an optimistic jog, soon vanishing into the moving shoals of well-dressed people who seemed to glow beneath the ceiling lights. For half a minute longer, Aria remained standing there, stationary. Phaira rejoined them.

When she didn’t move or speak, her guards exchanged a confounded glance. Phaira lifted her arm to check the time on her omni-tool, saying, “Today’s hearings are almost over. Should we return to meet with your partners?”

Aria faced her. “Did I ask you?”

“No,” said the bodyguard. “Sorry.”

“Liable to snap like winter-chilled twig, aren’t you?”

Aria saw a young matron approaching them from the dim corridor. She wore a dark blue buttoned shirt with bright floral print, pants of similar blue base, and a smile that defied all mortal danger invited by mocking Aria. Each step brimmed with confidence.

“Excuse me?”

Faded facial tattoos - evidence of an eventful youth - framed her cordial humor. “Aria T’Loak, right? It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance. I understand you had an issue with my private investigator? I was supposed to meet with her this morning. I just received her SOS.” A hand was extended. 

If Aria’s blood had been replaced by molten lead, she wouldn’t have known the difference.

“I’m very, very terribly sorry about that,” said the stranger. “I love that girl. Sharp as new knife, never invades anyone’s privacy by working in public spaces only, and doesn’t draw attention to herself. Until she crossed paths with you. _Nothing_ gets past Aria T’Loak, it seems. Except, well, her acting. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. A few of my sources tell me you hide a heart of gold.”

Eventually, the hand was retracted when Aria adamantly refused to shake it. “Why are you talking to me?” she asked.

A nonplussed pause came before a new approach. “I’m Bensa Helisir.” She withdrew a laminated business card from her breast pocket and handed it to Aria, appearing pleased when she received it. “Corporate attorney for Dantrida Natural Resources.”

The information on the card was consistent with her claim. At its center was stamped a red and gold sun, half-eclipsed by a blue celestial object. Aria attempted to hand it back as soon as she finished reading it.

“Please, keep it. All my contact information is provided there.”

“And you’re assuming I’ll need it?”

Helisir gave a short laugh. That she could gracefully endure the icy winter of Aria’s indifference almost impressed her. “I’m hoping you will. You see, I know exactly who you are. You’re Aria T’Loak. You’re smart, experienced, and highly successful. I have every intention of treating you with all the respect you’re due. And that includes not insulting your intelligence by pretending I have no ulterior motives. How about I start from the beginning?”

Aria turned away and resumed her departure from the corridor with her guards in tow. Helisir briskly followed, matching her steps. 

“Naturally, Dantrida is always keeping a sharp lookout,” said the attorney. “Your arrival on Nevos raised some flags, but we weren’t sure which ones. That’s where our PIs came into the picture. We documented you meeting with those small business startups, even sitting with the asari councilor later that same day. It was obvious that you had plans. But what were those plans? We didn’t have a clue until just a few hours ago, when your agriculture consortium took the petitioner’s stage with several matriarchs representing monastery development. You took two separately doomed interests, brought them together, and gave us a legitimate run for our money. That doesn’t happen every day. ”

They emerged back into the wide walkway between the parallel rows of outlets. Aria pretended Helisir wasn’t there.  

“I’m not here to fight you for the plot of land, Aria." Helisir silently, but politely, declined a free sample of cheese offered by a store employee, while Aria walked past without the slightest glance of acknowledgement. "If you win it, you’ll be sitting on millions of credits worth of palladium but no license to tap into it. It’s my job to let you know about an opportunity to have your consortium _and_ a cut of Dantrida, too.”

At last, Aria stopped dead in her tracks and addressed Helisir, who nearly ran into her. “I don’t invest in losers,” she said. They stood like boulders cutting the steady stream of traveling shoppers, who were forced to meander around them. 

“Losers? I think you have the wrong people in mind. Dantrida is currently the second largest mining venture in the _galaxy_. We would love to work with you, Aria. We can do great things for you.”

“There is nothing unique about what you do,” Aria refuted. “You have no proprietary extracting process and there is no branding or fashion associated with raw commodities. As soon as someone else comes along and starts doing a better job than you, you’re finished."

“How can they do a better job when we can just acquire them early on?” 

“By not letting you.”

Helisir shook a wily finger at her. “They told me about this. You’re a _stone wall_ , a shrewd negotiator. You want what you want and you get it every time. I’m prepared for that. These people you work with, Aria… They’re a bit of a mess, aren’t they? They had good ideas for their startups, earned some confident investors that got them up and running, and now they’re getting their names known. But they’re not business-minded. They’re not like you.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m buying and merging them.”

“But you’re going to hate working with them in the future.”

“Marginally less than I would with Dantrida.”

“Dantrida could be your vehicle into the rest of the galaxy,” insisted Helisir. “Dantrida is based in Council space. If you, say, contracted us to handle your station’s element zero, we could exploit a few legal loopholes to lower or even eliminate tariffs on its export outside the Terminus. You could become a major eezo supplier on the galactic stage within five years.”

Aria slowly slipped her hands, along with the card, into her pockets while dissecting Helisir with her gaze.

Helisir shrugged. “We can do that for you. We really can.” She remained calm even as her motivations were eviscerated and examined.

“Somehow I doubt you’d feel comfortable associating yourselves with Terminus powers."

“Is that what the distinguished asari councilor told you? With all due respect to her, I don’t think she understands us. We have quiet subsidiaries, Aria. We’re more wieldy than you think.” Helisir pointed a finger at the business card reluctantly kept in Aria’s pocket. “Give me a call. I’m sure we can work something out. Or… if you’re ever bored and want some excitement, maybe I’ll show you what Dantrida executives get up to after a good day. Our treat.” 

“I'll tell you what," said Aria. "You either do something for me right now or we never speak again."

"How can I be of service?"

She flashed a deceptively pleasant smile. "I want you to send me the shoes your private investigator wore today."

"Well I never thought you to be the type, but who am I to judge?" Helisir laughed at her own joke.

Aria didn't share her cheer. "I want them at my hotel room by eighteen tonight. With or without her ankles still jutting out of them."

The lawyer wasn't overtly disturbed by the image, but the shine in her eyes had dulled. "Consider it done," she assured her. 

"Good. I think we're done here."

"For now," Helisir agreed. 

Aria’s stare held the integrity of a laser as she watched Helisir take two retreating steps, turn her back to them, and drift away into the commotion of commerce. Sharp corners of the business card pressed into the pads of her fingertips when she began pensively fondling it. Upon withdrawing it again to sate her curiosity, Aria turned it over to find a line of writing scribbled on the back: 

_We'd love to have you._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter saw a major update in mid-March that changed events following the pool scene. If you have not read the most recent version, it is highly recommended before proceeding. Thanks everyone.

Aria and her bodyguards waded through the stream of people exiting the petitioning theatre, who parted for her, but left little room for vantage or maneuvering. She located an island of space near the door from where she could let her gaze skate over each face as they passed through milky, polished stone doors. Soon enough, her partners came into view. 

They were smiling when they met her. To Aria’s unambiguous satisfaction, they reported the panel’s receptiveness to their appeal. Apparently, Dantrida had presented during a subsequent time slot. Enoln claimed their presenters were rattled by the competition, and the audience was forebodingly quiet.

As the partners gladly told their positive account, the large doors eventually produced a group of matriarchs and their entourages. Among them was the councilor, carrying her folded magenta overcoat over an arm while holding herself with regal composure.

Aria noticed. Her stare slowly drifted away from the excited faces of her partners and settled on Tevos’s before the rest of her attention suffered a similar fate. Just as she was about to pass by, Tevos had the mixed fortune of meeting her eyes and was compelled to stop.

The partners quieted upon the councilor’s approach. Her eyes professed a certain coldness and her features were stern with unemotive agitation. Yet, when she addressed Aria, she sounded pleasant.

“May I have a word with you?”

Aria parted her lips almost imperceptibly as they curled into a miniature smile. She hesitated a moment longer than what might have been natural before replying, “You may.”

No one moved, prompting Tevos to clarify, “Privately.”

They peeled away from the partners, bringing only their personal security with them as they headed down a hall toward the furthest, and therefore least populated, elevator. Tevos remained silent for the duration of their short journey.

Their measured footfalls were muffled when they passed through the doors of the glass elevator, striding then upon thin, blue-gray carpeting. Only after Tevos had led them to one corner of the elevator, where they stood abreast facing the sprawling green forest with their bodyguards close by, did she say, “I think I have something figured out about you.”

When Aria glimpsed the side of Tevos’s face she found her staring straight ahead, letting soft golden sunlight gild her cheeks and enkindle her eyes. “And what would that be?” she calmly asked.

“That you’re spiteful,” answered Tevos. “When you don’t get what you want, you go out of your way to deprive others of what pleases them. I’m glad to know this early. It’s saved me the future disappointment.” She motioned for her personal assistant to take her coat for her. When the assistant received it, she retreated back to their guards.

Aria slipped her hands into her pockets, pressing the business card to her hip to make room for her fingers. “Well, I’ve certainly been accused of being spiteful before. But never disappointing.”

“Then you’d probably benefit from my judgment, if it humbles you at all.”

Aria was riled, but on the surface, remained tranquil. “So what expectations have I ruined? Did you take me for a sweet, doting soul? Did you think that, because I liked you, you would be able to control me?”

There was only one other party comprised of three people in the elevator with them, but Tevos issued her a hard expression nonetheless to demand that she keep her voice down. “Do you listen to yourself when you speak? You’re sounding very defensive. Paranoid, even. I think you’re taking this too personally.”

“While you’re being so _impersonal_ about it? Buying me wine for my birthday, asking me to sit with you, lambasting me when I don’t?” Aria scoffed, her features contoured by a shadow of ridicule. “If this isn’t personal, why are you upset? Is it because I’m spiteful? Why would you care?”

Tevos drew a steady breath to keep her temper leveled. “Declining your _invitation_ was an impersonal matter, and it’s what I’m referring to. I’m beginning to suspect we aren’t even on the same page. Did I not make myself clear when I gave you my reasons?”

“I heard you.”

“Then you understand that my professionalism is paramount? That certain freedoms other people might have are limited in my case; limited to what is presentable for a politician of my rank and seniority? These reasons don’t account for what I personally want.”

“What do you personally want?”

Tevos refused to meet her eyes, instead fixing her attention on the wall of lush foliage passing over them as the elevator descended into the canopy. “I don’t think we should speak of this anymore. It was a mistake to even broach the topic. I only meant to talk to you about Dantrida and our consortium. It’s far more important than this other nonsense.”

Aria kept watching her, but Tevos remained willfully indifferent to her stare. The cool shadows of leaves mottled their clothes.

“They told me it went well,” said Aria. “Was it different from where you were standing?”

“Somewhat. The matriarchs are expressing more and more reservations about working with you. They’ve witnessed the viability of our plan and are wondering if it’s prudent to stay on course. Something tells me they never thought we’d get this far. Reality is sobering.”

“So now I can expect a knife in my back? After what I did for them?” When the elevator stopped at a particular floor, Tevos led them off without a word. Aria followed, but not without asking, “Where the hell are we going?”

“An auction showroom,” Tevos replied. “It’s display-only hours. We can expect the area to be quiet.”

“Good. I’ve already drawn enough unwanted attention today.” Aria tossed a glance over her shoulder to speak to her bodyguard in tow. “Phaira, remind me later to reserve a table at that casino for a few days. I need to park myself somewhere bearable. With drinks.”

“They’re not going anywhere, by the way,” said Tevos. “The matriarchs. It’s too late to amend our strategy. And even if we did have more time it would come down to a vote, and such decisions usually rule in favor of a known evil versus an unknown one.”

“You vote on issues like that? No one is running the circus?”

“Certain matriarchs do exert more influence on the opinions of others, but no, our custom is to make decisions democratically whenever possible.”

“That’s a problem,” Aria said as they came to the open doors of the showroom, admitting them to a white-walled space divided into a maze of compartmental display areas. “You could be twice as smart as the person standing next to you but your vote will weigh the same.”

“The Republics’ political system has worked quite well for us over many millennia, I would say.”

They stopped in front of a tall, antique salarian vase - tall as either of them - standing on a pedestal behind a guard rail. A digital plaque mounted on the railing displayed information about the item, including its astronomical appraised value.

“You can tell yourself that everyone’s worth the same, over and over, for all your life,” said Aria. “You can even convince yourself of it. But wishing for something doesn’t make it true.”

Tevos withheld her reply. She stood beholding the veins of metal coursing the vase, unruffled.

“The masses are willfully uneducated,” Aria continued. “They think and act in mobs. Without High Command the asari would’ve been in the gutter, and you know it.”

The councilor was provoked into regarding her again. “High Command is a provisional branch. They act in times of crisis. I know there are countless individuals who think they tediously micromanage every facet of life, but it simply isn’t true. Conspiracies that demand extreme secrecy and competency from the entity in question are rarely plausible. People can’t uphold both for very long.”

Aria couldn’t get enough of her. She hardly minded that they disagreed. She wouldn’t have even minded if Tevos was lying. “And you’d let that kind of rational thought be drowned out by the inane dithering of your peers,” she said.

“You have a very callous attitude, you know.”

“I come from a very callous place. Life only rewards the practical.”

“Well,” said Tevos, “I can happily report a high standard of living for my people. In the end, isn’t that what matters most? It’s entirely possible that we’ve achieved it because even the most intelligent among us can be self-serving and vindictive. We allow the less-equipped to defend themselves.” She sighed. “But we’ve lost the issue again. Dantrida.”

“Can you blame us? There’s a lot to be argued between us and we love the sound of our own voices.”

To Aria’s incidental humor, Tevos shook her head and smiled.

“So why bring me out here for this?” Aria inquired. “Something we could’ve discussed through text?”

Tevos responded after some time for silent contemplation. “I wanted to be more personal.”

They ventured further into the showroom’s sterile walls, passing by artifacts and valuables, curiosities and eyesores. Few people lingered in the vicinity.

“What I really meant to warn you of,” Tevos said as they walked together, “is the inevitability of Dantrida retaliating in some way or other. That may include an attempt to dissolve our alliance.”

“By trying to manipulate my partners?”

“They _are_ the most vulnerable to superior offers.”

“Dantrida has no use for them,” said Aria. “They’d just buy and liquidate them. One lump sum is all my partners would get, and they’d be nobody again. That’s not what they came here for.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes a quick and assured payout is more tempting than future uncertainty.”

“Keep in mind that they’d also be displeasing me.”

The argument didn’t amuse Tevos. Her expression was opaque, but Aria could tell she was dubious of loyalty based in threats.

Reality wasn’t quite as the councilor suspected. Yes, if her partners ever left Aria out in the cold she would harbor a wrath like no other, and they rightfully feared her for it, but in practice, what could be done? An attack on them would be an attack on Dantrida - a _monstrosity_ of a corporation - and Aria would be inviting more trouble than any of this was worth. She could only hope her partners were not as calculating.

“There’s another concern”, said Tevos, pivoting herself toward Aria. “And that is the possibility of them undermining this alliance through _you._ ”

A cunning smile appeared on Aria’s lips. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I don’t know through what means. But from Dantrida’s point of view, taking you away from us would be the cleanest and simplest way of dismantling their competition. If _you_ leave, your will partners follow.”

“That’s true,” said Aria, unashamed of fact.

Tevos sounded wary when she continued, “They may approach you. They may be bold enough to threaten you, but bargaining is more likely to be their primary strategy. Regardless, it’s in your interest and favor to let us know if that happens. We may be in position to give you more than what they have offered.”

“You don’t trust me to honor our agreement?”

“I only trust that you will seek out the greatest rewards. That’s what _you_ came here for.”

They resumed walking in silence. Aria’s gaze could not be captivated by the treasures on display. They bored her. Rather, she found herself staring at the floor tile sprawling ahead, white and marbled, unconsciously seeking pattern in it. Out of the periphery of her vision, she saw Tevos fold back her sleeve to check the time on her wrist.

Aria only stopped walking when the councilor did, albeit after taking a few strides past an exhibit of interest. It was an old brooch, turian in origin. Its focus of a red gemstone was framed by sharp splinters of metal sweeping the form into a concentric curl; a tight, steely vortex.

“Do you like it?” asked Aria.

Tevos glanced at her. “I’m deciding whether I do.”

“It would look good on you.”

To this comment, Tevos responded with suspicion. Aria could see it in her eyes - the way she scoured her features for a revealing clue about her intentions. She would give none away easily. It thrilled her too much when the councilor figured things out for herself.

Unexpectedly, Tevos’s guard dropped as she quietly replied, “It would, wouldn’t it?” She paused to ruminate about something that was only temporarily private. “You reminded me of something my mother said to me once.”

“Well, that isn’t quite the relation I had in mind.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tevos wryly assured her. “Your compliment just reminded me of some advice she once gave me when I was young. It was before a party - something my extended family and their friends indulge in regularly - and she told me: _whenever you give or receive a compliment, do it gracefully_. What she meant was to keep them free from condition. I was to say _thank you_ and nothing else.”

“It’s sound advice,” Aria commented. “Don’t self-deprecate or needlessly show your hand.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is your mother still around?”

“By Athame’s will alone, yes.” Tevos took another step forward to better examine the detail of the brooch. “We only speak on occasion, however. We’ve never been very close. And, perchance… would you be willing to speak of your own mother, if I asked of her?”

Aria smiled, quite content to be noncompliant.

“I figured as much,” said Tevos. “You want to know more about me, but are unwilling to exchange anything of yourself for it. Very well. I will speak of myself no more.”

Though Aria did not consider herself disappointed, the gradual dissolving of her smile betrayed her will to remain unmoved. The councilor noticed.

“Of course,” Tevos resumed, “I might have made a false assumption about you wanting to know me better - in the wholesome sense. Sometimes my benefit of the doubt is too optimistic.”

“The last time I saw my mother, I wasn’t even a hundred.”

The poignant confession cut through Tevos’s cool, confident maneuvering like a hot blade. She had surprised her. Left her completely without reply.

Aria gave a quick shrug and said, “There’s nothing to say about it.”

“Well… I’m sorry. If it troubles you.”

“Why would it? It’s been too long.”

“Is that so?”

After dipping her chin in shallow affirmation, Aria drifted away from the conversation to stare at the brooch alongside Tevos, looking into the ruby eye of its storm, frozen in time, crystallized. It unsettled her, made her envision its spines unfurling to puncture her fingertips. She liked it. Aria might have obtained it for herself had she not been more disposed toward viewing it. On her own chest, it would become effectively invisible.

“I’ll buy it for you,” Aria told her.

“What? This?” Tevos indicated the brooch with as much surprise as amusement. “You couldn’t. _Legally._ Its value well exceeds the limit for personal gifts.”

Her brow knit, aiming derision at the absurd policy. “I have no stake in your politics. I’m not a diplomat. I’m not a lobbyist.”

“No. You’re something much worse.” Councilor Tevos eyed her with a peculiar blend of dread and remorse before turning away. “A moment ago, when I mentioned my mother’s advice, I neglected to say that in due time I realized its failings. In practice, accepting compliments gracefully did little to please myself. But it pleased whoever I was talking to. It kept them comfortable, even when I was not.”

Aria was pleasant when she asked, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Tevos slowly brought her arms across her middle where she folded them. “No,” she decided. “I just would like you to know, that when I say _thank you_ , in response to gifts or compliments, it’s never to console you at my own expense.”

“Good. I have no interest in being comforted or consoled.”

“I think you do.”

She scoffed at the councilor’s misconception. “And what contortion of evidence gave you that idea?”

“Well,” Tevos began, “for one, you seem unhappy. In general. Frustrated with something or other. Whenever we interact, you seem after my gratitude or my praise. I wouldn’t normally be so swift to pass judgement like this, but the circumstances are unusual. I gained your attention too quickly. You’re either looking for something to distract from your grievances, or a place to deposit them.”

Aria could not suppress a brief laugh. “You really want to play this game with me?”

“I’m not playing a game. I’m just being forthright.”

“Then you won’t take issue when I accuse you of being someone who keeps few or no friends, who remains religiously unavailable not from disinterest, but because you just can’t live your life for yourself?”

Tevos slowly withdrew her arms from their fold to rest them at her sides.

“If you want to take the piss out of me,” said Aria, “you’d better be ready for the same treatment. I don’t always play nice.”

“Charming as ever,” Tevos condemned her.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Are you?”

Aria looked hard at the councilor, who patiently waited to be convinced.

Once the length of Aria’s silence became indicative of an impasse, Tevos said, “Perhaps I am only discerning. That I know how to weigh a risk and its potential reward. That I know when it is wise to gamble and when to refrain. But how could you have known that? You’re too convinced that your worth exceeds any cost to consider another’s appraisal.”

“If that’s your conclusion, then I guess you don’t know as much about me as you thought.”

“Pray tell, then, what I’m missing.”

“Nothing less than the best decision you’ve ever made.”

Tevos smiled. “Maybe I’ve been unfair to you,” she said, “and you to myself. Is not everything we do inspired by the need to escape our ills, or the threat of them, to better places? Is loneliness to be disparaged or praised as a motivator?”

“Loneliness? Is that supposed to be me, or you?”

She glanced at her wrist again before sending Aria off with a non-answer, “Keep in mind that loneliness is not measured by the tally of people in your life. It is the quality of their companionship.”

Aria drew in a silent yet deep breath and raised the angle of her chin as they continued to walk. She didn’t feel quite right anymore. Something was bothering her, like a corrosive solution of vulnerability eating at the metal weldings that kept the vault of herself sealed shut.

She began to regret saying anything at all to Tevos about her mother. It was none of her business. It was none of anyone’s business. Spur of the moment pining was all it was - the desire to bridge some traversable connection with her, if only to intimate them more a microscopic amount. But she suspected it was too much given for too little received. It was too reckless.

This was not supposed to be difficult. This was, by every original intent, supposed to be _fun_.Instead, Aria felt chained to an escalation of commitment, doomed to feel worse at each rise until she couldn’t remember why she liked Tevos in the first place.

Of course, she could always smother down her infatuation. Asphyxiate it cleanly and quietly. She could shut it all down and be free of it if she _really_ wanted to. Aria had that rare capacity to purify herself of burdensome attachments and therefore future ill-conceived risks, in the fires of raw necessity. And she’d never look back.  The trouble was admitting defeat.

“I’ve got things to do,” Aria announced, hinting at her imminent departure.

After some thought, Tevos whispered with contrition, “Very well. Only, allow me to say that I don’t mean to antagonize you, Aria. I do like you, somehow. Perhaps in another life I might have known you better.”

Aria hummed in mild irritation. “In another life,” she echoed. “The mantra of the docile.”

The councilor departed the auction gallery with her. Together they led their bodyguards down the walkway's gentle curve, past offices and business fronts, while heading back toward the elevator. Tevos traveled at a leisurely pace that Aria was successfully bothered to match.

She saw _them_ appear around the bend. Four of them. They were accompanied by an entourage of drably-clothed acolytes, the maiden joy in their eyes dimmed to a narrow purpose that Aria found all too familiar.

The instant the matriarchs noticed the pair, they halted. Aria turned to look at Tevos as they did they same.

“Don’t say anything,” Tevos implored her. “Please.”

Aria slyly canted her head and deliberated whether or not to follow that advice. For now, she decided to spectate.

“Councilor Tevos,” one matriarch said upon approach. “And Miss T’Loak. What an unexpected… surprise.”

“Unexpected, yes,” replied Tevos, “as surprises tend to be. The feeling is mutual.”

The matriarch frowned. “Might I ask what brings you both here? Certainly Miss T’Loak and yourself have other matters to attend to besides browsing antiques. The circumstances make me want to ask if everything is all right. After all, a meeting not brought to our prior attention may be indicative of something pressing.”

She wasn’t pleased. Aria could hear disdain seeping between the cracks in her speech’s veneer of calm. 

“We were discussing the results of today’s assembly,” said Tevos. “Aria was not available to attend this morning, unfortunately. I found it appropriate to update her.”

The matriarch blinked and wore an expression of false tranquility. “In person.”

“For convenience. For clarity of communication. And for good etiquette.”

“But not,” said the matriarch, “for transparency.”

Despite her natural longing for the limelight, Aria was not so offended to notice that the exchange hardly involved her anymore. She had been reduced to a peripheral detail to make way for the true issue at hand - an evident and severe one, by the look of it. She was too curious to take offense at the moment.

“I can provide you the executive summary of what we discussed.” Tevos folded her hands behind her back with the nonchalance of a innocent. “I’d be happy to transcribe a report for you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Councilor. You know you have our… implicit trust. And you know we only seem dissatisfied because we were unable to alleviate you of the responsibility of playing sole liaison with Miss T’Loak. A councilor’s time may be wiser spent. No offense to Miss T’Loak, of course. I’m certain she tires of meetings that can be truncated through electronic means. Or through ourselves, if she desires personal contact.”

“None taken,” said Aria, although the stiff intensity of her reply triggered something defensive within the matriarch, who stared back at her with great caution.

Tevos inhaled before speaking again. “I am grateful for your concern about our communication protocols and will take your recommendations to heart.”

“Very good, Councilor. A good rest of the day to you. And to _you_ , Miss T’Loak.”

When the matriarchs passed them and headed toward the auction gallery, they left the social climate as frigid as an arctic. Aria noticed the way Tevos’s chest and shoulders slowly relaxed after she expelled a silently-held breath, and how her eyes fixated on the path the matriarchs had taken until they were completely out of sight.

“I apologize,” she told Aria without looking at her. “The matriarchs can be rather overbearing at times, regarding—”

“So how’d you know they’d come here?” Aria interrupted her. A meager but nefarious smile swept past her lips like a swung scythe. “Did you purloin one of their itineraries? Overhear someone expressing interest in the relics showcased here?”

“Excuse me?”

Aria drew a step closer, just threatening enough to make clear her dissatisfaction without triggering the response of the councilor’s guards. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Tevos refused to shrink at her approach. “Of course not.”

“Then don’t imply it,” said Aria. “Think I didn’t notice how many times you checked your chronometer? I think you were waiting for them. I think you _wanted_ them to see us. The question is why.”

The councilor returned Aria’s harsh stare for a while, but ultimately sighed and conceded to being caught. “Yes. Our meeting was not free from pretense. It was true, it was genuine, but as the matriarch pointed out, we might have just as easily conducted it through another medium. I…” When the time had come to reveal her motivations, Tevos inhaled and glanced away. “I felt that asserting myself in their presence was necessary.”

“You said it was smarter playing obedient with them,” Aria reminded her.

“I did. I believed that.”

“But?”

Standing any closer would have prompted action from their guards.

“But,” said Tevos, “smarter isn’t always dignified.”

“Is it dignity? Or the appearance of dignity?”

“What I intended was to demonstrate to the matriarchy that they cannot expect me to act on their every whim. I have my own methodologies and judgements. If they raise issue with something I do, they will learn to persuade me, not pressure me. I figured that appearing before them with you - with the _threat_ of you, that which is outside their control and affected by my actions - would sufficiently convey that idea.”

A breath of cruel humor escaped Aria as she shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t appreciate being used for political power plays, Councilor. Next time you try something like this with me, I’ll catch on quick. And I will sabotage whatever you’re trying to do.”

Tevos’s gaze wavered but did not avert. “That’s fair.”

Once again, they found themselves staring at one another without definite purpose.

"You're picking a fight, Councilor," Aria cautioned her. "You embarrassed them in front of me. You made your government seem in disarray.”

“I’m prepared for the consequences.”

Her adamancy was impressive, at least. Aria looked at her a while longer to decrypt her subtle body language. She saw the slight tightness of her jaw, the straightness of her posture, and the frailty of all that brittleness posing as vigor. The councilor was nervous.

When they met a junction in the walkway, they parted. Aria stopped to issue Tevos a final comment before disappearing around the bend, which she received with interest. 

“You want them to respect you more?" Aria said. "Give them a reason to. Don’t just scare them.”

Tevos gave a shallow nod and left Aria's sight. 

She adopted a brisk pace that her bodyguards were forced to accomodate. Aria heard the soles of boots clapping against the floor behind her, an invasive chorus to her mangled state of mind. Her temper was inexplicably writhing into knots. It was gruesome and felt like murder. Aria wanted to drive her fist into the beige marbled wall to her left, not to break it as much as to break her own hand. To reroute the anger to something physical and easily mended. The primal urge had no secure hold over her, fortunately. Aria swallowed it down and resorted to cold logical planning. 

Her hands dipped into her pockets where she felt the corner of that business card pressing into her fingertip again. She fished it out, flipped it over to its front side, and glared down at the image stamped in metal foil, shimmering with rust-hued sunbeams.  

Within a few minutes, Aria was leaning against the wall with a finger on her communication implant, listening to the flat ring of the line. 

"Aria? I'm glad to hear from you. How can I be of service?"

She rolled her eyes and asked, "What's your schedule look like tonight? I want to meet your execs."

"For you, Aria, our schedules are clear skies."


End file.
